


If They Knew All About You

by MsHermia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Anxiety Attacks, Civil War Team Iron Man, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I don't hate Captain America, Irondad, Kidnapping, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Pepper Potts Feels, Pepper Potts Needs a Hug, Pepperony - Freeform, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter-centric, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Tony Stark, Sort of Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, SpiderKid, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, english is not my frist language, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-09-01 04:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsHermia/pseuds/MsHermia
Summary: Tony Stark has just made it through the disaster with Ultron. He is trying to keep himself and the team together but relationships are strained and tempers are running high.Peter Parker is on top of the world. After a few shitty years, losing his parents and then losing his Uncle, things are finally looking up. Sure he lives in a crappy little apartment with his Aunt but he might have just found his mission in life.------This is an AU story obvious by some of the tags. I'm starting out a few weeks after Age of Ultron took place. Civil War will be a thing. Other than that I'm not too concerned about sticking to every canon detail and story line.





	1. And So It Begins...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I wanted to get into after reading an unfinished Fanfic and craving more. So I decided to take out a page of Professor Tolkien's book and just started writing the story I wanted to read. Please let me know, if you like it. Feedback makes all of us super happy, so leave some. :) 
> 
> Just adding again, that English is not my first language. Please forgive some of the weird grammar constellations and spelling mistakes that are surely going to happen.

He sat on the right side of the auditorium. The view was horrible and he had to sit on the edge of his seat, trying to see something. Anything at all. He peeked through the gap between two giant seniors right in front of him.

"Do you think it's only her or is Tony Stark gonna show up too?" Ned didn't so much whisper as shout into his ear to be heard over the sound system.

Just a second later someone hit him in the head. Urgh. It didn't hurt all that much, probably just the school paper, but this was uncalled for. He turned and scowled into the row behind him, trying to figure out, which asshole had made his head ring. That just earned him another swat with the paper.

"Hey!" he hissed until he looked into MJ's emotionless face. "I didn't even..." Another swat.

"URGH!" he turned back around. Focus. Pepper Potts was right down there, speaking on the importance of STEM education in furthering social mobility and he'd actually wanted to listen to this. Stark Industries wanted to assist schools to put more of a focus on Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics. They would be one of the leading supporters of public schools willing to intensify the advanced STEM courses.

"In addition to the financial support, Stark Industries will be offering new and advanced equipment to the schools that are willing to expand their STEM courses." Holy shit... Peter could already picture the state of the art laboratories they could install in the school and the things he could work on there. A whole new set of possibilities would open up to him with access to that kind of technology. But Ms. Potts wasn't done. "We will be offering individual internships to the brightest and most striving students among you. There is no set limit to the number of interns we will accept." A murmur went through the students. An internship with SI would pimp anyone's college application. And knowing Tony Stark, there might even be some money in it. He was notorious about despising unpaid work. Even with those giants in front of him, Peter could sense Ms. Potts smirking. Could be that her reaction was simply that obvious, even from his vantage point. More likely that it was his Spidey-senses picking up her expression from this far off. 

"Let me add though, that Tony Stark will personally be approving interns that his team wants to take on." She laughed at the sudden silence that fell in the room. "Yeah, you better make those applications count."

He sighed. Dang. Those internships sounded like a sweet, sweet deal. But he couldn't risk to bring his Spidey skillz anywhere near Stark Industries. Someone there might figure out that he... Nope. Not gonna happen.

After a short goodbye, Ms. Potts left the stage. Peter jumped up immediately, bit a short "Bye!" to Ned and literally ran for the door. He had left his web fluid in the lab when they were hoarded out of their classes for the "special presentation". That had been a close call. He definitely had to retrieve the evidence and his equipment. Luckily, his had been one of the last classes that had been lead into the auditorium. Sure, sitting this far in the back of the room had sucked, but at least it left him with the possibility of a quick exit.

The lab was on the other side of the building. He wasn't really supposed to be going towards the labs at this time of day. Getting caught and thrown out by some wandering teacher would have been incredibly inconvenient so he hurried along as quietly as possible. Classes were dismissed for the day and most of the students were on their way to the main entrance on the opposite side of the building. All in all, he was unlikely to be seen, but Peter was always on the lookout.

Once he got to the room, he grabbed his stuff, fastened the web shooters and with nobody around on this side of the school he simply slipped out of the window on the second floor. Jumping the southern wall on that very side of the school was the fastest way to get home. He would avoid having to walk all the way back to the main entrance, possibly running into Flash on the way, and he didn't have to circle back around half the school to get to the street leading home. Really a win-win in every way.

The tricky part was getting over the southern wall without being seen. He groaned because he was an _idiot_. The mask was back at home with his suit. He had left it there on purpose trying to discourage himself from too much Spider-Man-ing too close to the school, where people could identify him. It had seemed like a great idea at the time. Of course, the irony of him being far more likely to be recognized shooting webs and jumping walls in plain daylight right at the edge of his school without his mask, struck him with the force of a cartoon anvil now.

Whatever. He quickly shot a glance over his shoulder. He was not gonna walk all the way back around the school now, so here went nothing. Juvenility gave him wings as he sprinted towards the wall and jumped high only to have his Spidey-senses spike up. He came to a full stop on top of the wall and cursed under his breath. Of course, he had jumped right into the beginning of a crime scene that was basically made for Spidey. Two sketchy looking dudes creeping up on a woman on the other side of the wall, not far from where he was clinging to the top of the wall. Her back was turned to him, so were the backs of the sketchy dudes. She was on the phone, not paying attention to the particular alleyway, she had wandered into. And he didn't bring the damn suit. Urgh. But what was he gonna do? As the creeps crept closer there really was only one choice: he had to help!

He double-checked his web shooters, swinging over to the building opposite the wall behind the backs of the creeps. He was careful to keep enough distance to them so he would stay out of clear sight. The danger of being identified was real. But the closer he was the better his aim. He really needed to put some long-distance target practice on the calendar. He was in position when the lady turned. The creeps charged right at her. But she didn't scream. That's what they usually do. She just stood there, letting her shoulders drop like she couldn't believe this was actually happening right now.

Lucky for the lady though, the creeps were not as close as they had probably hoped to be when jumping her. Peter had ample time to jump over to the next building, shoot a couple of webs at them that left them stuck to the wall and then ducked into the afternoon shade of the building top. The lady glanced up in his direction, surprised and still unmoving, but she shouldn't be able to see him up there in the shade. As a car pulled up right next to her, she still stood her ground looking up right at him. Uh-oh... Maybe he had been less inconspicuous than he thought? He stepped back further into the shadow but then she opened the door of the car which carried her off towards Manhattan.

**

It was 7:00 pm on a Thursday. One of Tony Starks prime working hours. The prime working hours that were not to be disturbed. By no one. His prime working hours had been the main reasons he had missed hundreds of dinner dates in the past because he had just gotten too caught up in his lab. Uncountable times the minutes had just ticked by and next time he checked it had been 9 pm already. So, when his phone rang, he jumped. FRIDAY permitting a call to ring out on his phone at this time?

"Yes?"

"It's Happy."

"What's wrong?"

"I...I'm sorry."

With a loud clang, the wirecutter he had been holding came to rest on the work desk.

"What for? What happened?"

A short impulse on his watch was enough to call the suit to form around him.

"Where are you?"

"Ok, calm down. Everything is fine now. I just couldn't call before."

"You fucking kidding me? Don't call me after 3 pm for things that can wait." He let the suit retract itself and picked the wirecutter back up.

"It's about Pepper."

Tony froze. God, he was glad this wasn't a video call cause his face had just flinched to an extent that would have been hard to explain to Happy. He tried to keep his voice as passive as possible.

"What about her?"

"She...listen, I told her to stay put and I would come and get her, I just...all these moms in Volvos were blocking the main and the side entrance. They weren't even supposed to be there because school really wasn't even supposed to be out for another 20 minutes, but I just couldn't-"

"Happy. OH my god. Just tell me what the fuck happened." His heart was beating in his throat, his anxiety threatened to be overtaken annoyance. Why was he calling _now_?!

"Two dudes tried to attack Pepper and -"

"Wait, what??"

"Tony, I took every precaution but the exits were just jammed and then Pepper refused to wait, cause the students were starting to storm out of the auditorium and-"

"Are you telling me right now, that my head of security was incapable of picking up my CEO at a high school without her being attacked by random men?"

"She just didn't wait for me! She headed for the other side of the school and I couldn't turn around-"

"My god, Happy, where the fuck is this school? South LA? Watts? Is she ok?"

"Em. No. I mean, yes. She's fine. We - erm. No, we're not in LA, I picked her up at a STEM school in Queens."

A cold shiver ran down Tony's spine. "Of course you're in Queen. I - hem - I knew that." He facepalmed and walked over to his couch, falling into the cushions and pressing one of the pillows over his face to let out a frustrated moan.

"Tony, there's more... I didn't stop them. I got there and there were two dudes literally sticking to the wall. Pepper told me someone shot some kind of sticky web stuff towards them when they came for her. She is... I think she suspects that you have something to do with this. We're on the way to the Compound."

"Someone shot some kind of sticky web stuff at the dudes attacking her?"

"Yeah, we just left them there actually, stuck to the wall."

"And she thinks, that was me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well. Fuck."


	2. February 25th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between Pepper Potts' visit and his team mates hanging out in the common area, Tony has a so-so night at the Compound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't get used to me finishing chapters before whatever date I promised the next chapter for ;)  
> The last one was a little short, so I hope you will enjoy a little more story in this one.

Tony had abandoned the lab. If he was going to get a talking-to from Pepper today, he definitely needed some nourishment. The common room kitchen would do, there should be some Chinese food in the fridge that he had left there last night - or sometime in the morning. When he walked in the TV was blaring. Maybe he’d just be in luck and it would drown out any clattering from his kitchen stopover. Clint had been bombarding him with emails about adjustments to his bow all week. Chances were - if spotted - Tony might not get out of there without a detailed presentation on precisely which bow feature from which umpteenth bow version Hawkeye wanted to add to the newest model that he really needed ASAP as if he'd be likely to just get killed while on mission without it. Like he _wasn't_ retired or something.   
  
Where the hell did all the food go?   
  
"Urgh!" he muttered under his breath. His Chinese from last night was gone and everything left that didn't require at least 40 minutes of food preparation, cleaning, slicing and actually cooking things was some super healthy looking vegetable(?) fry thingy. Probably another one of Visions food projects, that Tony was not touching with a 10-foot pole. He was ordered to get rid of the fridge in his lab after Rogers decided that meals were to be eaten together as it was part of the team building experience. Maybe he could just have FRIDAY disguise a small fridge as some kind of computer-like looking thingy with lots of cables coming out of it, that Steve was never going to want to touch anyway. Really the only sensible choice left at this point, if he didn't want to be stuck having to order new take out every night. Especially at this time of the day. He was starving and urgh, people. Just no.

Worst case scenario was Rogers bashing the shit out of his fridge decoy because he'd suspect Tony was working on another Super Bot. He probably should just have FRIDAY order something every night. He'd have food and the gang would be less of a pain in the ass about him "actively" avoiding team-building-hour by installing his own fridge, just cause he wanted to have something around, he'd actually want to eat.  
  
"FRI, chicken fried rice. Add some egg rolls. Whoever can be here fast. And make that a daily task," he muttered.   
  
"Boss, a standing daily takeout order is incompatible with the health program implemented by Miss Potts in October 20-." FRIDAY's voice was echoing through the common area.   
  
"Override." Tony interrupted her "And for fuck's sake SHUUUSH!"   
  
Too late though, Barton was already whooping at the sight of him, crawling over the back of the couch like a long-lost friend had just shown up out of the blue.   
  
Well, that's just _great_ .   
  
"Boss, by your instructions from April 2013 given to JARVIS and re-implemented in my coding on May 2nd, 2015 overriding Miss Potts' health program will result in a shut down of the lab and your offices at the Compound and the Tower for 10 days. The override attempt will also be cataloged and forwarded to Miss Potts."   
  
"Oh, you gotta be kidding me. Just order it for right now then!" He’d have to check for a backdoor in the coding that he was pretty sure he'd left open.   
  
"Food is on the way, Boss."   
  
Tony turned back around to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer. A lager might make what he assumed the next hour would look like a bit more bearable.   
  
"You know, we already ate." Clint chuckled when he approached the kitchen counter "Pepper is running quite a tight ship around here, huh?"   
  
"Clint." Tony gave a curt nod. "Isn't your wife missing you by any chance?"   
  
"Hey, don't be so testy." He clapped Tony on the shoulder. "I really just dropped by to say hi to everyone and see how the team was getting on without me. Received the email I send you?"   
  
"Which one...?" Tony muttered.   
  
Clint didn't even seem to register that Tony had said anything and just kept blabbering on about the seams on his bow's hand grip and how the different angles they had experimented with attaching it in the past had affected his perfect hitting accuracy.   
  
"Listen, Clint, why don't you drop by some time next week and we can look at ... all _this_ in the lab. Today is really not a great time." Tony interrupted.   
  
"Oh come on. I'm here, you're here. Let's just sort it out now and I can take a new baby home tomorrow and everyone can happily cross off something from their to-do list."   
  
Tony swallowed his annoyance. He shot a short glance over to the sofa. Rogers was watching their exchange. Duh. He really, _really_ could do without the Captain’s latest team unity speech. And Pepper was on the way. Urgh, what was it with these people and their lectures? Speaking of the devil. The familiar click-clack of her heels coming down the hallway was echoing in the kitchen.   
  
"Boss, Miss Potts is here to see you."   
  
"Peppeeer..." Clint greeted her then turned back to Tony and shrugged. "Fine, I'll drop by the lab in the morning."   
  
"Clint. Aren't you supposed to be at some undisclosed location having dinner with your family?"   
  
"Oh, I think I'm getting on their nerves alread," he laughed.   
  
Pepper raised her eyebrows at that and turned to Tony. "Daily Chinese orders? I have FRIDAY stack this fridge with Prime Rib Eye and every organically farmed kind of vegetable you eat basically daily and you want to get a recurring order of chicken fried rice and egg rolls EVERY night?" She frowned at him. "Are you trying to deflect from stalking me earlier today?"   
  
Tony gave her a look. "Please, if I'd be stalking you, you'd never even know."   
  
"Great. So, you recruited someone? You need someone better."   
  
"I'm not having you followed. This is really insulting, Potts. I'd have thought you have a higher opinion of my stealth mode."   
  
"What's going on? Are you guys fighting?" Rogers chimed in from the couch. Tony rolled his eyes. He really didn’t need Cap to bud in on this.   
  
"We're fine, get back to you cream cake. You don't want to mess up that pastry or the whole thing will just collapse. You know structural integrity and stuff." he hollered across the room. In a lower voice, he added. "Potts, let's take this to the lab, yes?"   
  
Clint kept looking back and forth between Pepper and Tony, smirking: "You are fighting. What's going on? Did he miss the dinner res again?"   
  
Pepper studied Tony for a moment. His hands were starting to sweat and he didn’t really know what he usually did with his hands anymore, so he used both of them to hold on to his beer. She pursed her lips and turned to Barton: "So, you just happen to be in town today, huh? Did you add any web-slinging projectiles to your quiver lately? Picked up some freelancing work?"   
  
Clint flinched back from the counter. That’s what you get from budding in where nobody invited you! Falling on Pepper's bad side was a bad _bad_ idea. "What? No! I don't do webs!" He pushed himself off the counter and strolled over to the other Avengers. "I like my explosions. Sticky stuff just clogs up my quiver." He turned back around towards her. "I assume it does. I wouldn't _know_ of course, since I don't do sticky stuff!" He spun back towards his mates his eyes wide, mouthing a silent scream that had Wanda snickering in the back. Suddenly though he came to a halt and turned around to face Pepper again.   
  
"Hold on, sticky web stuff?" he said all of a sudden getting back into this discussion again. "Did this by any chance include a dude swinging on said webs? Where were you when you saw the sticky stuff?"   
  
Tony cut in, "Barton, you know what this is?"   
  
Pepper had her arms crossed, high-heel tapping on the tiled floor.   
  
"It's probably the Spider-dude!" Clint turned to Tony, eyes wide. Was this supposed to mean something to him? "People have been posting videos on youtube of this dude swinging around on these liana-like looking white strings and roping up pickpockets and car thieves. Cooper actually asked me if he was one of us, but it looks more like a neighborhood watch situation. Quite entertaining. It's like someone set Tarzan loose in Queens."   
  
"Oh, I've seen those!" Sam called out from the other end of the room. He pulled out his phone and walked up to Tony and Pepper. "Hold on, I'll just google "spider dude" and here..." he handed the phone over to Pepper.   
  
Tony had his eyes on her but kept his distance until she handed him the phone. The video quality was abysmal but Tony could make out a little red dude swinging down from the top of a building after a hooded figure. It looked like he fired an actual gigantic spider web towards the guy running down the street, that made him stick to the building.   
  
"Huh."   
  
"And you're telling me this is the first time you've seen this?" Pepper asked, eyebrows raised.   
  
"Potts, I'm telling you, I have nothing to do with this!"   
  
It was starting to get insulting. They might not be on the best terms right now, but he wasn't in the habit of lying to her. Occasionally stretching the truth by keeping a couple of details from her, yeah. No outright lies though.   
  
"FRIDAY does Mr. Stark keep any files on a web-slinging crime-fighting Spider person?"   
  
"Are you for real?"   
  
"I have no record of a web-slinging, crime-fighting Spider person, Ma'am."   
  
Tony just gave her a look, tossed the phone on the counter and made his way down to the lab.

  
  
**   


  
Her heels echoing down the corridor were close behind him. At least she was reasonable enough not to speak right now. Not until it was just them. He’d have a hard time keeping his frustration bottled up until they reached the lab if she tried to justify her distrust right here.   
  
The door closed behind them. His beer still in hand he considered just flinging himself down on the couch to watch her try to justify what she had just accused him of. He could just stare her down from down there until she did apologize. It was a rather unusual occurrence that Pepper would be the one making excuses to him. He had a much more impressive track record of pissing her off by not making date night or blowing something up that she had wanted to remain intact. But they were not in that place right now, where some softly whispered promises of betterment and light intimate touches would charm forgiveness out of the other one. Fighting with Pepper now was not going to end in hugs and kisses. So he put down his beer, turned towards her and held himself tall and straight, arms crossed, to weather what was about to go down between them.   
  
"You didn't even tell them that we have broken up?"   
  
"Really Potts, that's the part you want to focus on right now?"   
  
"Yeah, it is! What are you trying to do here? I said I'd give you space to tell them on your own terms after you hadn't even told Rhodey!"   
  
"I was going to tell him! This is just not the kind of news I wanted to discuss on the phone!"   
  
"So I'm just supposed to not talk to him until your schedules line up again?"   
  
"He's my friend, Potts. You have no right to take him!"   
  
"Oh... my _god_ , I'm not taking him. I've known Rhodey for... you know what. No. I'm not doing this!" She stared at him.   
  
"Fine by me. How about we get straight to the part where you apologize to me for accusing me of STALKING you!" he spat back at her.   
  
She narrowed her eyes and he could feel his pulse quickening.   
  
Oh, she just hated being wrong. But that victorious grin that was trying to work its way onto his lips might get him in trouble.   
  
"You really want to stick to this story?"   
  
"I will absolutely be sticking to the truth if that's what you mean by 'story'", he glared.   
  
"So there just happened to by a crime-fighting Spider loose in Queens at the same time a couple of dudes came around the corner to steal my purse or something? You really want me to believe that?"   
  
"For fuck's sake, Potts! I didn't even _know_ you were on the East Coast, let alone in Queens! Of all the places Queens is really one of the last ones I'd go looking for you. If I had orchestrated anything, it would have been in LA!"   
  
She looked him up and down, frowning. Her expression softening. She turned her back, arms slack on her sides. For a moment he thought she might just leave until he heard her voice soft and warm again.   
  
"You really thought I wouldn't check up on you today, Tony?"   
  
"I… no." He cleared his throat, shaking his head. What… were this still talking about the same thing? "No, I didn't…I didn't expect you to be here at all." He let out a sigh. "Honestly, Potts, I didn't know you're even in town. I …" he closed his eyes for a second. He needed to _not_ say too much here. But… but it was still Pepper. "If I'd known… maybe… maybe I'd have been tempted to check up on you." He rolled his eyes when she turned back to him, her eyebrows raised. "Fine. Yeah, I probably would have checked up on you. Not by proxy though. I'd never send a web-shooting weirdo after you…"   
  
She gave a small chuckle before getting awfully quiet. "I'm sorry." She said it. There it was, his victory over Pepper Potts. A bitter-sweet win. A few months ago this would have felt great. He’d relished in this moment. But now. Well.   
  
He looked right at her, took in the dark circles under her eyes, her hunched shoulders. A cross-country flight and a long day exuding CEO charisma to who knows how many random people would do that to anyone, even Pepper Potts. Not the only long day this month surely.   
  
"You shouldn't have come all this way. I'm fine."   
  
"No, you're not." Her response came quick and soft.   
  
"Even if I wasn't. You said it yourself. We're broken up, Potts. You're not my… my girlfriend. And you haven't been my PA in years. This is not your mess to deal with anymore."   
  
She let that sink in for a moment. "Fine. You don't need me" she air-quoted, wariness swinging in her voice.   
  
He clenched his jaw when her eyes bore into his. She stepped towards him, her hands first hovering over him now slowly tracing down his arms. Her right finding its way to lie flat against his chest, her left softly caressing his fingers edging him on, coaxing his fingers to curl around hers   
  
"Don't!" he whispered.   
  
But she leaned in closer. He felt her breath on his neck, her eyes on his face and his mind and body wanted nothing more than to lean into her, hold her against him and forget that whole messy shit show that was his life right now. His life without Pepper.   
  
"What if I needed to see you today, just to-"   
  
"No." his voice came out low and a lot sharper than he had thought his throat capable of standing so close to her. "No, Pepper. You don't get to do this." He was still frozen, his eyes trying to find hers. What was she doing? Why would she...   
  
She was looking right at him, raising her hands to cup his face. No. Too much. He took several steps back, glaring at her.   
  
"What the fuck, Pepper?!"   
  
For a moment her legs almost looked like they were moving, but she stayed frozen in place, her hands still raised, her face expressionless, unmoving.   
  
"Are you seriously saying 'no' to sex right now? Have I lost my edge?" Her voice took on a very un-Pepper-like nonchalance and Tony just stared at her, stunned.   
  
He arms dropped down to her side. Oh… Oh… my god.   
  
"It's a little insulting that you think sleeping with me is going to make me forget about Aiden."   
  
"I wasn't going for making you _forget_ ..." she responded dryly.   
  
"Ok, scratch that. Very, very insulting!" his pulse was back up, his temper rising.   
  
She took his beer off the table, drank a couple of sips and turned back to him, eyes staring right at him.   
  
"I've only known two faces of Tony Stark on February 25th since 2005. Black out drunk Tony, who will have to be tracked down and then carried home from some VIP party extravaganza, or sexed out Tony, who will be falling asleep in bed next to me after a different kind of night-long overexertion. I'm not going back to searching the clubs for you."   
  
He stared at her open-mouthed. "So what, your master plan is having sex with me once a year to get me over my son's disappearance?"   
  
She shrugged. "It's illegal to hire someone to do it."   
  
"Wow. Very edgy, Potts." She was baiting him. Holy shit, she was trying to get a rise out of him - emotionally as well as physically it seemed.   
  
"Nope. Not doing this. You will leave." He pointed towards the door.   
  
She just stood there, looking at him. He wasn’t going to cave. He wasn’t. He couldn’t. It was wrong. _It was wrong, right?_ Urgh.   
  
"Now, Potts! Get the fuck out!"   
  
Pepper kept looking at him for another moment before she let her head fall onto her chest and closed her eyes. Oh… no.   
  
"Maybe... maybe you really don't need the company tonight. Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought I did after all..." she whispered. She took a little step towards him, just a small one. "But I need you, Tony. Tonight. Please."   
Her tears fell down her lashes onto her blouse. This… this was serious. She… she meant this. There was truth in this. She wouldn’t lie. Not when it came to Aiden. Seeing her like that, his pulse picked up, painfully and fast. She just stood there, waiting. But he couldn't open this door again. He wouldn't.   
  
"I can't," he said firmly and took another couple of steps backing away from her. "I won't."   
  
Distance. Physical distance was the key. It's what they said, right? Seeing things from a different vantage point made you realize a different truth. Whatever genuine heartache Pepper still carried about the disappearance of his son on his second birthday, this stunt was supposed to be for his benefit much more than it was for hers.   
  
"I know you're lying, Potts. I'm sure you think of him and you..." he cleared his throat " I'd never...never accuse you of not missing him...I know you're trying to do something fucking noble here, but I'm not your charity case. You don't get to pick me up and cuddle me once a year like a lost toy you remember you once owned."   
  
The emotions seeping out of her now left him cold. "Go back to LA, Potts."   
  
A quick tap on his watch and his suit was assembling around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. I will probably be updating with the next chapter within the next couple of days.


	3. Spider-Man's Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is on patrol. The night starts out ordinarily enough, until it's everything but a regular night on the streets of Queens.

Peter was sitting in one of his regular spots, up on top of a building a couple of blocks from his Aunt's apartment looking out into the dark streets of Queens. His legs dangled over the edge of the building. It had been a quiet night. His suit-less pursuit on his way home from school had really been the most exciting part of the day. The whole week really. And hanging out on top of a building in late February with only his suit and not much action made the cold creep into his bones. He kept rubbing his hands together and flexed his legs to keep his muscles somewhat warm. Maybe he should be proud. Maybe his crime-fighting was actually having an effect on his borough. Well, it was also a possibility that the thieves simply avoided the blocks he had been hanging out at most frequently. He should probably change up his routine a bit. He let out a deep breath. He did love that spot in particular though. The view from up there down the streets toward Manhattan was just stunning.  
  
Manhattan. If crime in Queens was slow he could always expand his territory a bit. Why should only Queens benefit from his mad skillz? There had to be quite a few muggers strolling through Manhattan, picking tourists' pockets and locals' alike. And let's be honest, many New York City tourists were clueless and reckless, too obvious in their ignorance and too blinded by all the shiny neon signs to keep track of their belongings. And the dimmest among them were walking around craning their necks at all the skyscrapers all over Manhattan. Time Square must be a gold mine for pickpockets with all those people pushed up close against each other staring up into the sky. To be swinging among those shiny billboards... Well, one day. A boy still had to have dreams. He chuckled at his owns thoughts.  
  
Tonight was about Queens though and with that, he cast his glance down from the shiny skyscrapers in the distance back to his neighborhood streets. There had to be someone who was up to no good. Come on criminals... He really needed to move or he'd be freeze to the edge of this building. He had brought a canteen with hot tea, but at this point, the winter weather was creeping into his bones.  
  
 _Bingo!_  
  
Someone was looking suspiciously careful up and down the street while his wool-capped buddy disappeared in an alleyway just behind him. Peter made his way closer to the scene, jumped from one rooftop to the next. He was hiding in the shadow of the night. The dudes were operating on the opposite side of the street though. The creeping around that back ally did look like they were his kind of criminals, but they technically hadn't demonstrated any outright illegal behavior. He had to get to the other side of the street for a closer look. While he was getting the hang of this and the tell-tale signs were very clear, he had made a couple of embarrassing misjudgments. He might have webbed up the occasional hipster dude to his car only realizing too late that the dude had simply locked his keys inside his own car. So he had turned down the profiling and focused a bit more on observing continuous suspicious behavior before jumping into action.   
  
He waited for Scout-Dude to turn and look back into the alley towards Wool Cap to cast his web. Swinging himself to the other side of the street was the trickiest part. If they saw him, the game was up. If he would startle folks who were just passing by or happened to look out of their window, well, same thing. He kept himself low on the rooftop after he stuck the landing on the other side. He felt out the vibe of the street and listened for any rushed movements or hushed voices that would tell him that he'd been discovered. He'd been way too indiscreet in the past. Sure, there wasn't really a way to stop a car slamming into a school bus discreetly... but the videos of Spider-Man people were posting on the internet were piling up. It was getting out of hand. He actually created a couple dozen youtube profiles just so he could comment on some of the videos pointing out "obvious errors" and the "sloppy animation" that proved that "the Spider-Man was totally fake". He'd rather want to stay a myth and work in the shadows. Creeping up on criminals was so much harder when you had a cheering fan base all over Queens.  
  
He was crouched down on the roof and slowly leaned over the edge of the building. The alleyway was right underneath him and there was Wool Cap hard at work.  
  
Well, was this him trying to pop out the window frame or was he just trying to be a helpful neighbor cleaning off all these spider webs with that crowbar of his?  
  
"Ok, this one is being pretty obvious about his intentions..." Peter muttered to himself. Wool-Cap had managed to pop one side of the windows out of its frame when Peter made his move. He shot a web, ripping the crowbar out of his hand. By the time Wool Cap looked up, a second web was already flying in his direction, pinned him to the ground and muffled his surprised yelp. Peter was fast to make his way down the wall into the alley.  
  
"It's _really_ bad manners not to use the door, buddy!"  
  
His feet planted firmly on the ground, he waited for Scout-Dude to lean back into the alley's opening to see what the kerfuffle was about.  
  
"Hi, there!" Peter's web hit him squarely in the chest. "So nice of you to join us..." He pulled Scout-Dude towards him and immobilized him on the ground right next to Wool Cap.  
  
"Ha, well. That wasn't so hard was it." He chuckled, with both incapacitated burglars lying at his feet. Now what? "No one is going to find you all the way down here though, huh? But we don't want you to freeze solid..." An incomprehensible muffle came from the two wannabe-thieves.  
  
He clapped his hands together. "Ok, let me think... I could just drag you there, but that wouldn't be very kind, would it? Well, neither was trying to pop open that window frame, eh?" He gave them the wink and the gun. Wool-Cap and Scout-Dude just looked at him, eyes wide open and stunned not just by Peter's web muzzle. He tapped his foot. "Man, tough crowd today."  
  
He looked back towards the street, then back up to the rooftop.  
  
"I guess, I could just web-burrito you up and then roll you...?" he mused.  
  
In the end, he decided for the kinder alternative after he had rolled them up nicely in a web-wrap, he just flung first Scout-Dude over his shoulder and carried him over to the main street. By the time he had picked up Wool Cap and returned to the ally opening, Scout-Dude had already rolled himself over to the sidewalk. Peter popped Wool-Cap against the building. He had left a handwritten note saying "I'm a burglar. Please call the cops so they can pick me up. You can find my crowbar and the broken window down the alley on the left." on Scout-Dude and would just have to trust that the bypassing pedestrians would follow the instructions and call the cops. With three strong jumps along the wall, he made his way back up to the roof. A short glance down into the street revealed a couple of pedestrians already gathered around the two dudes. He nodded to himself for a job well done. He'd better make his way back to his look-out on that side of the street for now. Crossing the road further down would give him a better chance to remain undiscovered.  
  
A couple of streets down he swung over to his earlier outpost to collect his canteen and the backpack that he had left up there. He landed with a squat and unbent slowly. Something was wrong. The hair on his arms had started to rise. He wasn't alone.  
  
Someone was ... _eating._  
  
His eyes shifted to either side and landed on a figure sitting on the floor at the other side of the rooftop, munching on what looked like a... burger? He felt his throat contract.  
  
Ohhh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  
  
He stood frozen like a deer in headlights for what felt like minutes until Tony Stark, mouth still half-full with the latest burger bite, muffled "So, you're the Spiderling..."  
  
Peter's body still wouldn't move. His mind was trapped between flight and willing his deepest fanboy fantasy to come true. Holy shit, all he could do was just stand there.  
  
"Crime-fighting Spider? Web-slinging onesie dude?"  
  
"Spider... Spider-man.", he finally responded internally cursing himself for how pathetically weak his voice sounded. He cleared his throat, putting some more force into it. "Mr. Stark... how nice of you to drop by..."  
  
Stark stuffed the last piece of burger into his mouth and got up to his feet. His faceplate was open. That was a good sign, right? Maybe Iron Man _wasn't_ there to kick his ass. He could only hope.  
  
"Huh... Spider-Man..." he muffled around his burger. "Well, if ya say so..."  
  
Peter shifted nervously, mentally shuffling through what he had been up to that week. How the hell had he popped up on Iron Man's radar and how much trouble he was in here?  
  
"So, you just happened to be in the neighborhood?"  
  
"Not exactly..."  
  
Peter nodded, forcing himself not to audibly swallow that giant lump that was forming in his throat. "Okay... so... anything, in particular, I can help you with tonight?" He cringed. He sounded like an amateur hustler. May was going to _murder_ him if she has to pick him up at a police station.  
  
"What's ur deal?"  
  
Peter blinked, letting the question sink in. "My deal?"  
  
"Yeah, what's this thing you're up to here?"  
  
"I'm not up to anything, Sir. Just... you know, the occasional neighborly assistance." He tried to keep his voice in check, so his nerves wouldn't make him sound like a squeaky 10-year-old.  
  
"So, it's more of a part-time gig than your actual day job."  
  
"Erm... I guess, so..."  
  
"So, ya don't just hang out on buildings all day waiting for pretty girls to rescue and... and... bad boys to... like... glue to places..." Stark had pulled out another burger from... somewhere and started munching away.  
  
Peter was slightly stunned. What on earth was going on? "I'm not sur-"  
  
"So, you just happened to be hanging out around my girl today and happened to be in the right place at the right time. Nothing suspicious there, right?" Stark crossed his arms, burger still in hand.  
  
Peter's mind was racing. What... what the hell was happening? "I'm sorry, I'm not sure... your girl?"  
  
Stark gave an exaggerated groan, throwing his arms into the air "Fine. Former girl. Whatever. Let's not be anal about it..."  
  
If his mind hadn't been stunned into absolute puzzlement already, this would have certainly done it. As Peter was just gaping at him, Tony Stark stuffed another piece of burger in his mouth and continued to muffle. "Not saying ya don't have some moves. Weird moves. But not bad. Sticking to buildings. That can come in handy. Is it only buildings you stick to or can it be just like anything? I mean... that'd be annoying..." he started laughing. "Hahaha, do you like get stuck to things by accident? Pushing a revolving door and you just have to go for a spin?" Stark was bending over laughing, banging his hand against his thigh.  
  
Peter blinked. Gaping at the man. "Are you drunk?"  
  
Stark was still roaring with laughter. Wiping tears from his eyes.  
  
Oh... Good... God... He was completely smashed...  
  
"I'm sorry..." Stark tried to catch his breath, "but just the thought of you, going round and round and... in that onesie..." knee-slapping, roaring laughter ensued.  
  
Peter blinked again. For a second he was tempted to look around. Maybe he'd find some hidden cameras. This could not be happening.  
  
"Are you for real right now?"  
  
Stark hiccuped, wiping at his eyes. "Sorry..." another snort. "Okay... " He let out a long breath, shaking off the laughter. "So, Spiderling. I ask again. What's ur deal?"  
  
Peter kneaded his fingers for something to distract himself. When he realized it, he stopped and consciously brought his arms to his sides and straightened his back. "I just want to help people."  
  
"Huh." Stark took another bite off the burger.  
  
"I do! I just help when I see people need it and... How the hell did you even find me?"  
  
"Cross-referenced some youtube videos. You need a new routine."  
  
Peter gaped. "You figured out where I was by looking at a bunch of videos on youtube?"  
  
Stark shrugged. "I had my AI analyze a pattern and made an educated guess."  
  
An uneasy feeling crept up in him. Fine, he had gotten a little lazy with changing up his crime-hunting spots, but had he really been that predictable?  
  
"Bit of an amateur move really." Stark looked up and pointed his burger at him. "Or a very calculated maneuver. Part of your little agenda? Did you want to be found?"  
  
Peter crossed his arms. Ok, this was _not_ the time to get offended, but he couldn't really keep the pout off his face. Good thing he had that face mask.  
  
"I... no. I was just trying to be helpful. To people."  
  
Stark studied him, letting his gaze wander up and down all over Peter. He dropped his arms at Starks stare, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  
  
"You're sticking to your little story then, that you just happened to be coming across Pepper Potts today as she just happened to be attacked by a couple of low-lives."  
  
"What? Yes! I mean... no, I have no idea, what you're even talking about!" He rummaged his memory. "I mean, there was a lady today by my-" He faked a sudden cough. Oopsie, focus, damn it. "by that school. I guess... I guess, maybe... maybe it was Miss Potts. But I wouldn't know. I... I don't ask people for their names before I help them..."  
  
Stark still stared at him, head tilted to the side. Peter shifted his weighted again, forcing himself to keep his arms still at his side and not fidget so much.  
  
"I don't. It must have really just been a coincidence. And I don't have an agenda. I just... I just want to help."  
  
Peter bit his lip, praying that Stark's boozed up mind had him not register the slip-up, as the other man stared at him for another moment. Stark then crumpled up his burger wrapping, a little hatch on his suit opened, where he disposed of it.  
  
"Alright then." He brushed off the rest of the burger from his gauntlets, let his facemask close shut and turned around.  
  
"Wait!", Peter called out, taking a step forward.  
  
Stark turned back and lifted his face mask up again, eyebrows raised. "Yes? You have something to add?"  
  
"I... no. I just... Was that it?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"You just wanted to know if I had been following Miss Potts?"  
  
Stark shrugged. "I figured you didn't. You seem to be hanging out around that school a lot." He stared at him unblinkingly.  
  
Peter gulped.  
  
"But I had some time to kill, so I figured no harm done in asking you straight up."  
  
"So, you just dropped by... to talk."  
  
"Yup. And now I'm done talking. So, laters!" Stark turned around again, thrusters starting up.  
  
"Wait!"  
  
"Urgh, whattt." He killed the thrusters but his faceplate staying closed.  
  
"Should you be flying home this..." Ermm, what was a nicer way he could phrase 'shit-faced'? "Erm... you know, after having a few drinks..."  
  
Stark just shrugged.  
  
"I mean, you carry a lot of explosives, right? Like... a lot."  
  
"So?" Peter frowned at the indifference swinging in his voice. "Let's not pretend like people don't expect me to blow myself up at some point..." and he added muttering "and looking forward to that."  
  
Peter blinked. "That's not true. People love you. They trust you. They-"  
  
"They care, as long as it's their necks you're saving. As soon as you happen to flatten their car in the process, the gratefulness comes with a claim for compensation and a mandatory apology tour." Stark gave a humorless laugh. "Oh and don't dare to break their stuff if it's their neighbor's neck you're saving. Then those damage claims just keep flying in as action lawsuits."  
  
Silence settled between them. Peter absently scratched the back of his hand, biting his lip.  
  
"Mr. Stark," Peter tried in a quiet voice "Are you ok?"  
  
The other man just cleared his throat. "Sure. Peachy."  
  
Peter looked at his feet. He didn't need his Spider-senses to tell that Tony Stark was harboring some dark demons. How... He was Tony Stark. He was Earth's greatest defender, billionaire, engineer, inventor. He was like the coolest guy on the planet. Peter looked up at him. He should tell him, right? Maybe he just had a bad day and he really needed someone to tell him-  
  
"I'm actually... I'll be taking off."  
  
"Wait, Mr. Stark. I could... I could..." Help you... no... Make sure you get home okay? Maybe... call you a cap? What would be the right thing to say here?  
  
Stark waved him off. "Nothing to worry about, I've been bashed up to near unconsciousness in the suit more than once. I'd have probably ended up in a big ball of flames long ago if my AI didn't have such an excellent guiding system. And to think they praise Tesla for their mediocre autopilot." Stark gave a short nod. "Well, I'll be keeping an eye on you, Spiderling. Don't do anything stupid."  
  
Stark turned and took off, leaving Peter behind on the roof. His eyes followed Iron Man's firey trail. "And who exactly is keeping an eye out for you, Mr. Stark...", he sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading.


	4. That Glorious Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is recovering from a rather lackluster night.

Tony was lying in bed and stared up at the ceiling. The room was way too bright. God, he missed Jarvis. He hadn't really slept all that much. A few hours of passed out drunken rest, but a splitting headache wouldn't let him fall back to sleep. He had some painkillers in his nightstand. Those might have taken care of it but he relished the soft hammering of his head. A sweet punishment for his weakness and his pathetic drunken outing. What the fuck had he been thinking? He knew Pepper was probably out of her mind with worry and pissed as hell that he had just taken off. It likely hadn't helped that he had ordered FRIDAY to rejected any incoming calls until further notice when he had bolted from the Compound the night before. He turned and came to rest on his side. The view over the Manhattan Skyline was spectacular as ever. The sky was clear and the winter air so clean he could almost see the earth's curvature from up there. With most of the rooms on his personal floors were still messed up from that Ultron fiasco, he had avoided coming back to the Tower for quite a while. Even his teammates' constant presence at the Compound and everything that came with it, had been more bearable than the sight of the destruction. He'd never even implemented FRIDAY in the penthouse. The loss of JARVIS was still too fresh. Sure. Vision. But that wasn't the same.

At his arrival the night before, the absence of an AI in the penthouse turned out to be a relief though. He had no desire to turn on the lights. Honestly, he wasn't even sure there were any light switches installed. JARVIS had been managing the Tower and Tony didn't need anyone but him to turn on whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Walking through the ruins of what he and Pepper had built was a lot more bearable in the dark. But now it was morning. Sunlight was streaming in from the outside and with no AI to dim the windows all that was left for him was to face a new day. Tony's glance was still directed at the windows but his eyes were glazed over. He wasn't really focussing on anything. The urge to pick up his phone kept popping into his mind, again and again, only to be blicked away. He could feel it lying behind him next to his pillow, just waiting to be picked up. 5 more minutes. 5 more minutes of peace. His phone was where FRIDAY was waiting to tell him that he had a million missed messages. Well, probably... He bit his lip. Or maybe there weren't any messages and that scenario where Pepper stayed behind to make sure he was okay after he basically told her to piss off to LA was all in his mind. She had left before.

Well, if she hadn't left right when he had told her to leave to Compound, the pathetic display he had put on last night would certainly have done the trick in the meantime. _Urgh._ He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. A couple more minutes of the sweet pain piercing his brain. He needed that. He deserved that. With another deep sigh, he dropped his hand from his face, turned around and looked at his phone, reality just lying in wait.

"Alright, FRIDAY. What did I miss?"

"Sir, it's 9:24 am. There are 64 missed calls in your log, I have messages left with 51 of those calls. 48 of the calls were received from Miss Potts, 11 calls from Mr. Rhodes, 2 from Mr. Barton and the most recent 3 from Mr. Rogers."

Tony grit his teeth. A sudden rush of relief came over him. Nope. He turned to lie on his back and ran his hands through his hair, fingers knotting around the strands of hair. No, he didn't get to feel happy that managed to keep his friends up all night trying to reach him. What the fuck was wrong with him...

"FRIDAY, is Potts still at the Compound?"

"Boss, my sensors at the Compound have placed Miss Potts in your lab for the last 13 hours."

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. _Jackass._

"Tell her I'm fine." His voice low. "Tell her I can't see her today, but that I'll be in touch."

_Coward._

He stared up at the ceiling until FRIDAY's voice once again blared from his phone.

"Boss, Miss Potts told me to thank you for the timely and detailed update."

FRIDAY fell silent. Great. Even his AI was unimpressed by his performance last night. He sighed. At least he found himself in the right place to wallow in his misery some more. He could flagellate himself about how much of a wimp he was by avoiding to call Pepper or Rhoadey. All. Day. Long. Well, at least all morning. Reality at the Compound could wait a couple more hours. The damage was done anyway.

He picked up a fresh shirt from his closet - well, fresh minus all the drywall dust that was courtesy of Ultron - and took a stroll around the penthouse. He hadn't really cataloged any of the damage on this floor. The floors beneath the penthouse were all managed by SI - minus his personal lab - and so Pepper had hired people who took care of clearing those areas. The damage there had been minimal thank goodness. Up here, it felt too personal to let SI staff handle it. Maybe it really was time to just get on with it and rebuild. Start a new chapter. He was barefoot as he walked up to the open space that combined living room and kitchen, careful not to step into anything sharp. He tried the tabs on the sink, but the water was turned off. Huh. He leaned over the counter and worked his hand between the coffeemaker and the wall. The power switch had been deactivated and with a flip, the coffeemaker came back to life. Thank god for small mercies. He bent down and rummaged through the cupboards. _Tadaa!_ Pepper always stored bottled water everywhere. Always prepared for the apocalypse. He swallowed hard. Who could blame her?

Tony watched water chortle from the bottle into the coffeemaker's water tank. He grabbed a cup through the broken glass door of the wall cupboard, careful not to cut himself. Protecting his hand with the hem of his shirt he wiped off splinters and shards from the porcelain before he placed it on the coffeemaker's tray.

_I <3 Iron Man. _

His eyes lingered on the print. He'd given this to Pepper as a joke. Because what was more hilarious than gifting your own merchandise to your girlfriend. This was supposed to be their baby. The Tower. They'd rebuilt it after the Invasion. The bit his lip when the wormhole flashed before his eyes at the mere memory of the incident. After everything, it had made them stronger then. Rebuilding their penthouse... He had wanted it to be a bridge for them to rebuild themselves. Their relationship. But the structural damage the last months had left them with now seemed irreparable.

"Too little, too late, Stark..." he muttered to himself. He checked on the beans then started the machine up. "Let's just get on with it..."

Coffee in hand, Tony found himself a headset and let FRIDAY write down his notes. All this shit had to be cleared out. Most of the rooms seemed ok-ish. A few walls had to be redone completely. An hour of mindless cataloging. He'd have to return with some equipment. Implementing FRIDAY would have to be one of the top priorities. He needed her there for everything to work more efficiently. The prospect of replacing JARVIS in the Tower though... Was he really there yet?

Structural work first.

It was almost noon when Tony landed on the roof of the Compound. He'd confirmed with FRIDAY that Pepper Potts had left shortly after the AI had delivered his message to the lab. Just to be on the save side Tony had waited a little while longer though. To be extra sure.

_Coward._

At least he had called Rhodey before he had left for the Compound. Sure, it hadn't been his version of fun when his best friend screamed into his ear for a full 15 minutes and called him out on all the irresponsible, childish bullshit that Tony was too old and too clever to pull. Nothing he hadn't heard before.

"What the hell, man?! I thought we were past this."

"Past this?" Tony responded quietly.

"You know what I mean." Rhodey cleared his throat. "Look, Tony, nobody would ever expect you not to be hung up on losing your child. But... "

"But... he's been lost for years. Let's just put up a stone in his memory somewhere and move on."

"That's not..." Rhodey groaned in frustration. "Don't put words in my mouth, that's _not_ what I was going to say!"

"Well, it's what you suggested in the past." Tony murmured.

Rhodey stayed silent and Tony instantly regretted that he had called him about this in the first place. "Sorry..."

"You know, that's not what I meant... not now and not back then and you know that."

Tony added quietly "But it's what you think. Aiden's dead. And I should accept that."

Rhodey sighed. "I'd really rather be having this conversation face to face."

Tony's hand tightly wrapped itself into the sheets of his bed. Yeah... denial had a bit of a different ring to it.

"What happened, man? I thought..." Another frustrated huff of air came through the speaker. "The last few years you were... you seemed to be doing so well."

Tony shook his head slightly, still digesting that particular revelation from last night. "Apparently Potts has been distracting me with sex for the past 4 or 5 years."

"Come on now, don't be an ass."

"Her words, not mine."

"No fucking way, she said that to you?"

"She showed up yesterday and basically threw herself at me."

"Get outta here... No way in hell that happened!"

"Come on, would I be lying to you?" Tony his tone playful. He really needed to lighten the mood a bit.

But the line stayed quiet. For a brief moment, Tony closed his eyes and bit the insides of his cheeks so he wouldn't curse out loud. The honest answer was yes. Yes, he would lie to Rhodey about his relationship with Pepper. He had in fact been doing a lot of that lately, had omitted all the fights and frustrations that had been building up between Potts and him including their eventual break-up.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there last night, Tones. I should have realized... How about I come by this weekend? We could just hang out. Nintendo, some beers? We could talk..." Rhodey suggested, "or not."

"Yeah, sure. You're always welcome here, you know that..."

More silence from Rhodey's end. Tony swore he could hear his friend's brain working all the way from D.C.

"It's fine, Honeybear. You don't have to treat me with kid gloves. You don't have to tell me that everything's going to be okay and that we'll find Aiden and how we'll be living together happily ever after. It's not 2005 and I know, you don't believe we will. That's fine. I get it."

"I'm sorry, buddy."

"Me too."

"I have to take off, but I'll call you tonight, alright? I want to hear more about what's going on with you and we'll set up a time for Saturday night. You better pick up or I'll be mad."

Tony gave a dry laugh. "Sure, I'll be waiting for your call, Platypus."

Silence rang in his ears after he hung up. He sat on his bed in his room looking out into the city. All those people down there in the street. These people with their lives going about their business like they did. Just living. Around him, there was only silence. Silence in the wake of destruction. Ruin. Loss.

The trip to the Compound had his pulse pick up. The same couldn't be said for his spirits. He arrived on the roof and made his way to the living quarters. A quick shower was definitely of the essence. Then he could probably distract himself with a bit of light work until his head stopped hurting. Before he had even time to take off his shoes, FRIDAY informed him that Barton had been hanging around his lab all morning and was requesting his presence.

"Urgh... just tell him I have a thing. I can't make it."

"Will do, Boss."

Tony made his way into the bathroom.

"Boss, he's insisting."

"Then insist harder."

He stood in the shower and let the warm water run over his face and chest. If he could just shut out everything around him. His head was buzzing and at that point, it had to be more than last night's booze.

Urgh, forget about yesterday. Yesterday didn't matter anymore. Nothing he could change about it. _Today's about today._

He let out a deep breath. It was the last week of the month and that would mean he could do some scheduling. He would just look over what got done in February and what short time deadlines had to be met in the coming weeks. He was mulling over the SI projects he knew where in the pipeline, Some updates for Avengers were undoubtedly going to land on his desk as well.

Freshened up, he got himself another coffee from the kitchen and headed down to the lab. To his annoyance, a particularly persistent archer was still sitting on the ground in front of the lab entrance.

Just great. "Seriously, FRIDAY. You had _one_ job to do.", he muttered.

"There he is!" Barton was positively shouting down the hall.

"Come on Clint, I told you, I have a thing. I don't have time to tinker with your equipment."

An impish smile crossed Barton's face. "Like you could ever say no to tinkering with my equipment..." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Tony rolled his eyes with a groan. He was really not in the mood for his antics today. "Basically anytime next week. But not today!"

"Come on, Tony! I promised Lila we could try it out over the weekend!"

"Well, first of all, don't make promises like that to your kid. Some of us aren't retired and have an actual schedule to keep to. And secondly, don't let your kid play with that bow! It's a highly sensitive, very deadly weapon!"

Tony opened the door to the lab and strode over to the workbench with Clint on his heals.

"Okay, fine. How about I help you with whatever you're doing today? And that way you're finished real fast and then we can just hang out!" Clint's hand shot up requesting a high-five.

Tony turned around. His face slack, he just stared at him.

"You know you want toooo!" Clint kept waving his hand around expectantly, waiting for Tony's hand to meet his.

Tony shook his head and turned back to his workbench. He pulled up his project sheet, that was now projected above the desk in front of him.

Clint moaned. "If you don't want to work on the bow, that's fine. We can just hang out or something. Have a couple of beers. Maybe... maybe... play a little... I don't know... Wii? Nintendo? I will even let you pick the first game."

"Seriously, Barton, I have stuff to do. Why are you..." he gasped and turned around. "Someone put you up to this!"

Clint's face lost his ear to ear grin and took on a look of pure innocence.

"Nooo, we just haven't been hanging out in like forever, so..."

"Uhhh, baaad spy! Spill, who was it? Cap?"

Clint crossed his arms.

"Can't have been Pepper... might be Fury, but why would he care now."

"Come on, Stark. Nobody put me up to this."

Tony's eyebrows shot up.

"I'm serious. I... " Clint shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I know Pepper hasn't been around a lot lately. I wasn't sure if she'd be here for, you know... so I wanted to drop by just to be sure that someone was... I don't even know. I mean... I do know that you can have a hard time with..." Clint blew out a breath and looked down at his feet. "Listen, I'm not good with all the touchy-feely stuff and all the talking about... things. And stuff. When Pepper showed up, I mean, of course, she would for you. Of course. But I was just relieved, but then you skipped off to somewhere last night and she didn't know where you were and got all, well... and I just..." He looked up at Tony. "I _know_ , we don't usually do this. You and I. But, I'm a dad and of all of these emotionally stunted misfits that make up this team, I guess, I'm the only one that might get what you're going through."

Tony bit his lip just so his chin wouldn't drop.

"I'm not... I mean, of course, I can't really imagine... I couldn't begin to..." Barton let out another frustrated breath and found a spot on the ceiling to stare at. "What I do know, is that I wouldn't stop. Ever. I wouldn't stop looking and I wouldn't stop obsessing. And when everyone else is moving on, it would make it even worse... Drive me insane, the not-knowing." He eyes found Tony's again. "They don't get it. They couldn't. But... I think... I think I can. In a way. So, I'm here."

Tony just looked at him. When Clint didn't seem to want to add anything else, he cleared his throat. "That. Wow." Tony cleared his throat again. "That was quite a speech."

"I practiced in the car."

Tony snorted. "I... I'm not really sure, what to say."

Clint shrugged. "It's fine. You don't... I..."

"No, it's..."

They both stopped talking.

"Sorry, I made this awkward."

Tony rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Bow."

Fists shot up in winning celebration as Clint let out a hoot.

"You know, if this was some elaborate scheme to make me work on your stuff... well, then I'm impressed," Tony chuckled.

Clint clapped him on the shoulder. "Meant every word."

With a quick shake of the head, Tony closed his project sheet and pulled up the calibrations for Clint's bow.

They worked side by side for a couple of hours. Tony went back and forth between old models and newer adaptations. Clint's descriptions were truly helpful. The archer described the changes in behavior when he was handling the different versions. Every so often Clint took a trip to the kitchen. The sleepless night clung to him, but the steady coffin supply certainly helped. Then they had FRIDAY order some sandwiches from a nearby deli for a late lunch. Technically a very late breakfast for Tony.

"Okay, I'll admit... This was fun."

"See, I told you, you missed me!"

Tony snorted as he took another bite. They kept eating in silence until Clint gave a low "hem". Tony's eyes shot up but Clint still stared at the sandwich. "So, other than distracting you... If there're any leads or... or... clues ... asses to kick to get to the leads..."

Tony swallowed his bite. He carefully picked at the wrapper to get another clear bite. "There's... we haven't really had any leads. Not for a while."

Clint just nodded but didn't look up.

"Not many to begin with and..." Tony's mind flashed back to the evidence catalog that was burnt into his mind. A lot of empty arrays on that form, especially in the eyewitness category. And the forensic category. No security footage. No one saw...

He cleared his throat. "There was... a child trafficking bust a couple of years ago when they thought that they could uncover some new information," he said quietly. "Nobody ever wanted anything, I mean, you'd think... at least as soon as they'd realize that... who..." Tony shook his head.

"So, you think it was random."

Tony looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Wrong place, wrong time. They just took him. Not realizing, who they were taking."

"That's what they told us. And that's what made sense at first. No note, no calls, no blackmailer, nobody asking for money or blueprints or SI stock... nothing. Even after weeks and months..."

"Huh... weird. Doesn't make any sense if they were after money. Selling kids. And if not for the money why go to the lengths of stealing your kid..."

"Yeah, thanks for the insight..." Tony cut in dryly.

Clint looked up meeting his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"It's alright." Tony sighed. "I've been over this a million times. It never made sense. That's the most frustrating part. If I could figure out the motive, I'd figure out the culprit. Figure out him... or them, well..." Tony took another bite.

Clint nodded. They finished their lunch in silence and when Clint returned from another coffee run, Tony was bent over their latest changes to the bow's handhold again. He made some final adjustments and then handed the bow over.

"Thanks, man."

Tony was already putting away his tools, closed the open files, made sure they were filed under correct project folders.

"You know, you're always welcome to drop by the farm. When tempers run too high at the Compound or something. The kids always love to see you."

"I'm thinking one Avenger is enough for your wife to deal with."

Clint chuckled.

"Or does she need some farm antiques fixed again?"

"In Laura's book, there's always something to be fixed." Clint laughed.

Tony bit his lip and gave a short nod. "I'll actually be moving back to the Tower."

"Oh?"

"Just... it's time."

Clint patted his shoulder. "Well, that's quite the project to keep yourself busy." He stood behind Tony, waiting, he bobbed back and forth on his feet. "I guess, I'll be taking off."

Tony turned around and leaned against his desk. "Alright, well..."

Barton cleared his throat. "Yeah..."

"Thanks, Clint. This was... very unexpected," he laughed.

Clint returned his grin. "Don't make this all awkward now... I'll see you around, buddy."

When Clint had left, Tony took a seat on his desk chair. He pulled up the blueprints of the Tower, looking up different notes the SI crew had put down concerning the cleanup.

"Alright, FRIDAY. Get ready for a major remodel..."

**

As the sun set on that Friday night, Peter Parker and his canteen filled with warm tea were sitting on top of yet another apartment building in Queens. His feet were freezing but his hands clasped the hot beverage. A couple blocks south of his usual spot his attention was once again pulled in by the lights over Manhattan. His eyes wandered over the Empire State building, the Chrysler Building and just behind it came to rest on Stark Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Another update is coming some time next week.


	5. Of What Is Lost and What Is Owed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is preparing to move on with his life, little pieces of the distant and not so distant past present itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely rubish at writing these Chapter summeries mostly because I hate giving too much away. I hope you enjoy the chapter

Still in the lab, Tony was spread out on the couch, massaging his temples. His headache was basically gone. His limbs didn’t feel any heavier than usual. He was pretty much out of the woods when it came to the physical effects of his hangover. There was still some damage control to be done though. Like calling Pepper. But that was not gonna happen tonight. Besides the point that she probably wouldn’t pick up anyway, just the thought of hearing her voice made him cringe. Maybe tomorrow, after his night with Rhodey. He hadn't left the lab ever since entering that morning with Clint. His focus was on the blueprints with a short break that he used to actually update his worksheet for March.

"FRIDAY, time?"

_**"It's 7:50 pm, Sir."** _

He let out a long breath. "Alright, how about you back all of this up." He closed the open Tower project. "You should be able to access the mainframe in the Penthouse at least remotely now. Make sure I have a copy of all this over there."

_**"Of course, Boss."** _

"Thanks, girl. I'll be off to get some dinner. Let me know if there's any delay in the data transfer before I leave for the Tower."

_**"Yes, Sir."** _

Tony wandered through the hallways towards the kitchen, pondering dinner. _The Team should have eaten by now, so chances were that he’d have the kitchen to himself. Maybe he’d have more luck with them keeping to themselves in the common area today. Or delivery? And have it delivered to the Tower? He would definitely have his peace over there. At least in terms of people... He could always try some of the healthy fridge stuff. Might appease Potts somewhat at least._

He walked into the room and kept his head down. The other Avengers had gathered on the couches. Roaring laughter echoed through the common room. Their eyes were all fixed on the screen in front of them. Tony opened the fridge and stared inside for a full 5 minutes. What would go with what here exactly? He pulled out the vegetable drawers one by one. Eggplants, Romanesco, some funky looking root veggies. He had no idea how to even prepare half of this stuff and no patience to do 20 minutes of cleaning and chopping. There were some scampi in the freezer, which would do. Pasta would be fast and easy and he’d seen some fresh spinach in one of those drawers. Add a bit of cream. Voila. Simple but elegant. And most importantly: fast!

As soon as he started rattling with the pots and pans, boiling water for the pasta and preparing the scampi for frying, he did inevitably draw intention to himself. It only took Rodgers a couple of minutes to heave himself off the sofa and stalk over to him.

Leaning over the kitchen counter, the Captain grabbed an apple, bit off an impressive piece and muttered, "You missed practice."

Tony really didn’t feel like burning his dinner. He only gave him a short glance. "Sorry, I had a thing at the Tower."

"At the Tower?"

"Yup, kinda last minute. Didn't really... erm... anticipate the trip. Should have called, sorry."

"Is something going on with you?"

Tony sighed, stabbing at the shrimp in the pan. "I'm fine, Cap. You know I can't make it to every training. We have an agreement, don't we?

"Yeah, the agreement is you call, if you can't make it."

Tony stayed quiet for a moment and swallowed his annoyance. Most of all, because Rogers had a point. He should have just fucking called and avoided the lecture.

"I said, I'm sorry."

Rogers nodded. "So you and Pepper..."

"Let me stop you right there. I actually have something to tell you." He turned, back straight and arms crossed.

"Oh?"

"Yes, actually part of the reason I didn't make it to practice this morning. The Tower."

"Yes?"

"I'm redoing my floors at the Tower."

Steve stood up straight, his eyes blinking rapidly. "Oh... how come?"

Tony tapped his fingers on his arm. "Well, they needed a little work ever since things went down there..."

"You mean ever since you set Ultron loose?"

"Ok, I didn't set Ultron loose. He more or less set himself loose."

Steve raised his eyebrows, "Well... that's -"

"Actually,” he uncrossed his arm and held up his hands effectively stopping Rogers rebuttal, “that doesn't matter to this story, so let's just skip this argument.” He turned and quickly stirred the scampi and added the spinach. “I'm redoing some rooms and I will be moving back there as soon as it's done."

"You're moving back to the Tower? But why?"

Wow, were they really play this game now? He turned to look at Rogers.

"Because we're driving each other crazy, Steve. I can't handle it anymore!"

"Tony, come on now! We're a team! We have to stick together, grow together. If you'd just turn up to more of the group -"

"Stop." Tony dropped the spatula and held up both his hands again. "It's not gonna happen. It's not for me."

Steve pursed his lips. "That's really disappointing, Tony. We want you here."

"Of course you do..." Tony murmured "Listen, it's really gonna be a stress relief for everyone. You guys don't have to worry about whether I'll remember to show up for practice and I don't have to feel guilty for forgetting to go."

"Hm..." Steve leaned back against the tabletop, fingers drumming against the surface. His face was sporting the very best version of his signature I’m-not-angry-I’m-just-disappointed look. "I guess... I mean, it's your decision. But we will miss you at the Compound."

Tony turned back to his pasta and made a face at the scampi.

"What about the equipment?"

"What about it?"

"Well, if something breaks during practice or a mission, we can't just drop it off at the lab anymore if you're at the Tower. How do you want to handle that?"

Tony stirred his pasta and turned down the heat. "I guess, you can still drop it off as you would now. The lab’s not going anywhere. Just log it with FRIDAY. Then I'll put a date in the diary for when I can come over and have a look at it. That's what happens now as well anyways."

"But what if we need something to be fixed faster than that..."

"I guess, you'd just let me know it's an emergency."

"But what if you're out..."

Tony turned back. "Come on, Steve. I'm out plenty now as well. I'm not chained to that lab."

"Could have fooled me..." Rodgers mumbled.

Tony shot him a dirty look.

"Well, alright. Do you have a time frame for when you assume you'll be packing up your things?"

"I'll let you know."

Rodgers turned away, muttering to himself, "Of course you will..."

Tony bit his lip and gave his head a short shake. Food. He needed food. He took a deep breath, strained the pasta water. Almost done. He definitely had to take a picture once he was done, just so that he had some evidence when he called Pepper eventually.

***

The weather over New York City was just as chilly as it had been the night before and Peter's tally was just as unimpressive as it had been all of the rest of the week. Today he'd only apprehended a couple of pickpockets. Not even a carjacker. Maybe it was the weather after all and not just his amateurish patrolling routine. That's had Stark called it… an amateur move.

 _Urgh._ _What did he know... He's just this... this... well... basically the coolest Superhero ever._ Peter pouted and took a bite of the chocolate bar he'd brought as a motivational goodie.

 _Well, some superhero Stark was, flying around the city smashed in search of innocent teenagers._ He took another bite of the chocolate bar, his eyes wandering over to the Manhattan Skyline. _In Stark’s defense, he didn’t really know that Peter was 15..._ His eyes were fixed on Stark Tower.

“ _Urgh, come on Peter.” He shook his head and drew his eyes back to his own streets. Stark was fine._

He was gazing down into the streets of Queens. Maybe it was too early on this Friday night for people to be out and about. He dug around in the pouch he had fashioned into his suit for his phone. He sighed. It wasn't even 9 pm. Most partygoers were still getting ready to go clubbing, couples going out for dinner would be sitting in their nice restaurants. _Their heated, cozy restaurants..._

 _“This blows.”_ He stuffed the last piece of chocolate into his mouth.

Just as he led his gaze wander down the street something caught his eye. A huge shooting star was coming down over Manhattan, landing squarely at...

"That's not a shooting star, that's Iron Man landing at Stark Tower, you dumb-ass," he muttered to himself. He stretched his leg and watched the Tower in the distance, while he stowed away the phone.

"You know, where there's always something going on... Manhattan..." he grinned to himself, swinging his legs back and forth, still sitting on the edge of the building. He could totally expand his services...

“It’s not like anyone here is gonna miss me..." he looked up and down the street. "Nope, nobody gonna miss me patrolling here."

He jumped up on the ledge, did a couple of jumping jacks to warm up his muscles and swung his way over to the next building. He only needed to swing a few blocks to the north to get to the Queensboro Bridge. He crossed the East River, swinging underneath the bridge - which was probably the most fun he had had swinging in weeks. When he made it to the other side, he swung another block and planted himself on top of one of the buildings. Must have been somewhere on 1st Avenue. He could already see Stark Tower in the distance. First though, he’d do some work. Crime fighting should definitely come first and then - if he had done well - he'd reward himself and satisfy his curiosity. Really, it was part of his job to make sure the people in his borough were doing ok. And since he had just extended his services to Manhattan, it’d be downright negligent not to check up on Stark. Not _'check-up'_ check-up, just… well, to see what Stark was up to.

It took him less than an hour to tie up 5 pickpockets, 3 carjackers, 2 burglars and another 2 shoplifters between 57th and 49th street. He'd not been this productive in Queens all week! One of the ladies, whose purse he had returned, even bought him a hot dog! Sure, it was a little… well, mushy. But hey, that was basically pay for a job well done. He was sitting up on the rooftop of a hotel in Lexington Avenue, only a couple blocks away from the Tower. He munched on his hot dog, craning his neck to look up into the higher floors of the Tower. He was a little too close and from his vantage point, there really wasn't much to see. Certainly not whether Stark was roaming around in the upper levels.

But unless he had taken a car back to the new Avengers facility in upstate, where he’d probably flown in from, he must still be up there. Iron Man sure hadn't been sighted soaring across the sky again since Peter had been sitting on that rooftop in Queens.

*

In bed, not having bothered to dim the windows, Tony had turned his face towards the light, eyes still closed. It had been a knock at the bedroom door that had roused him.

"Yes..." he croaked.

The door opened and an unstrung Pepper Potts walked into the room. Her eyes didn’t meet his apart from a short flicker up that seemed to confirm her assumption that he'd still be in bed.

"Mr. Stark, Detective Roberts arrived a couple of minutes ago and is asking to speak to you. He's waiting in the downstairs parlor."

Tony stretched out his arms before one hand came down and rubbed the bridge of his nose."What time is it?"

_**"Sir, it's 8:52 am. Today is Friday, April 21st, 2006."** _

"Thanks, JARVIS."

Tony leaned over to the other side of the bed and let his hand softly glide down the naked women's back lying next to him. For a moment he closed his eyes, cleared his mind of every single thought and just enjoyed the soft skin under his fingers. He sighed before he pulled back his sheet. He put on some boxers and a morning coat. His eyes glanced up. Ms. Potts was still waiting in the doorway of the room.

He brushed past her when he walked out of the room. "Take care of this Pepper, will you..." indicating the bedroom.

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

He glanced over his shoulder. He was still behind him, following him.

"JARVIS will let me know when she wakes up or would you rather I wake her and throw her out right away?"

He stopped abruptly and turned on his heal to face her. Eyes open wide his spin made her stop in her tracks as well. "Do I look, like I'm in the mood for sass from you today, Potts?"

Her eyelids fluttered and she took a step back, avoiding his eyes. "No, Sir. I'm sorry."

He fastened the waistbelt on his coat and turned back around. Long and hurried strides took him towards the parlor where the Detective was waiting. His ears were filled with the beat of his pulse that had already spiked when Pepper had announced the guest and was nowhere near settling down. With every step that brought him closer, it rather intensified. She was still following in his wake, though the characteristic clicking and clacking of her heals was muffled. She was probably literally tip-toeing along behind him, trying to be as unprovoking as possible. But Tony couldn’t care about that now.

He strode into the parlor, without much mind paid to his ruffled appearance. "Detective Roberts..." he shook the man's hand and nodded at the two policemen who accompanied the Detective.

"Mr. Stark. I'm sorry to be barging into your home without so much as a call."

"Not at all, Sir. Should we take a seat?" Tony's voice vibrated with nerves. He'd be surprised by his own indifference to his lack of collectedness if this had been the first time the Detective had walked into his home unannounced. Or maybe this not being an isolated incidence is what should make him feel embarrassed about his inability to keep his composure. "Some coffee maybe?"

"I'm afraid we won't be staying long, Mr. Stark. But yes, please do take a seat."

Tony's lung deflated as the Detective motioned for him to sit down on his own couch while he planted himself in front of Tony. He cast down his eyes as he sat, nodding slightly for the Detective to begin.

"It's not good news, I'm afraid. We did find the body of a young boy close to Wildwood Canyon Park, north of Burbank." The detective cleared his throat. "We had to run some tests as the... the body had been there for what we estimate to be a few months."

Tony nodded slowly, his breathing still shallow. There was nothing he could do but sit and listen.

"There were no personal items, so we used a DNA sample to identify the boy. It was not a match for your son."

He closed his eyes and nodded again.

"We didn't want you to read about this and worry. The department is still doing..."

"Yes..." Tony got up. "You're doing what you can. I understand."

"Mr. Stark, I'm sorry..."

"Thank you. Thank you for taking the time out of... of what I'm sure is a busy day for you."

The Detectives eyes darted over to Pepper, who stood in the entrance to the room, dabbing at her eyes.

"Is there anything else, I can help you with today, Detective," Tony asked, not bothered to keep the flatness out of his voice. He was about done with this.

"The evidence we have collected so far..." the Detective cleared his voice again. "Every indicator points towards this being connected with the 5 other cases of boys aged 2 to 4 years that went missing since 2005. We have still not added Aiden to the list of what we strongly assume is the work of a serial offender even though his abduction seems to follow a similar pattern because... well..."

Tony crossed his arms. "Because no body, no evidence," Tony added evenly.

Detective Robert mostly ignored that Tony had spoken. "We are confident that we can learn from this case. Any new inside can lead to more understanding of this pattern, which can help us find your son."

"Can help you find my son's body." Tony was staring at the Detective. The coward wouldn’t even look at him.

"I'm very sorry Mr. Stark. The odds -" the Detective began, his eyes still glued to the notes he was clutching.

"Yeah, I know about the odds. Is that it?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry, we couldn't bring you better news."

Tony turned. "Thank you as always, gentlemen. Potts..." He motioned to the policemen when he passed her. He bit his lip hard as he took the stairs down to the workshop. With every step, his anger and pain took another step into his heart. He winced and tasted blood when his feet hit the landing. He cursed out loud and hammered the code into the touchpad.

It took another hour for Pepper to turn up in the workshop. He was still in his boxers and robe working on his 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster. 

"Just put it over on the desk." he murmured from underneath the car.

"It's... just coffee and some clothes," her voice small.

"Desk..."

"Yes, Sir."

She quickly took the couple of steps over to his desk. There was some rustling as she put down whatever it was she had brought down for him. Then there was silence.

"Anything else, Miss Potts?"

He heard her sniffle and some unidentifiable mumble.

"Can you speak up?"

"I'm sorry, Sir." she sniffed more clearly.

"Stop apologizing."

"Yes, Mr. Stark." Again, her voice so weak he could barely make out her answer.

He sighed once and rolled himself out from under the car. He sat up to look over to her, shuffling from one foot to the other next to his desk.

"Potts, I need you to stop. No more moping, no more apologizing. You need to stop."

He sighed as her face twitched. She was trying really hard to fight back tears.

He looked away and sighed. "Pepper, I can't stand it anymore. Do you want me to fire you?"

"Yes, Sir." she sniffed.

What now? If he hadn't still been sitting down this probably would have floored him. He reached for the rug next to him and cleaned off the grease and dirt that was stuck to his hands. He got up slowly and took some time to walk over to where she was standing at his desk, giving her space as she finished blowing her nose and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"You want me to fire you?" He was still a few feet away from her, didn’t want to crowd her in.

"Yes, Sir." she nodded. Her voice still shook with emotion. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robe.

"Are you going to tell me why?"

Another tear fell off her lashes faster than her hand could reach up to conceal it.

"You know why."

He shook his head. "Nope. You want to be fired you say it."

Her eyes were still locked on the ground in front of her. He didn't rush her but he would not just let her go like that.

"It's my fault." He bit his lip and pulled a face as the cut from earlier broke back up. Pepper still wasn’t looking up though. "I shouldn't be working for you anymore. You need someone... someone... competent and reliable. Someone you can trust."

Tony sighed but still kept his distance. "You know that's bullshit. Nobody is more competent and reliable than you."

"I let you down. I should have quit months ago. I'm..." she stopped herself.

"Look at me, Pepper."

She dabbed at her eyes again before she met his.

"We've had this talk. I don't blame you."

Pepper looked away immediately and just gave a humorless huff. "Yes, you do."

He grit his teeth "When I say -"

"Shut up, Tony.” Her eyes were red and fiery when she looked back up. Her face drawn in pain, “You trusted me with your son and someone took him while I was supposed to look out for him. Only an idiot would not blame me." She drew a sharp breath, eyes back at her spot on the ground. "And you're not an idiot."

He clenched his hands into fists. "Well, thanks. No, I'm not, which is how I know that you're not reckless, you're not careless."

"I turned my back and he got taken!"

Pepper raising her voice at him was unsettling, to say the least. How long had she been beating herself up like that? "You turned your back because there were two Nannies watching him."

"Who I had hired..."

"Jeez, Pepper! Do you need me to get you a cross and some nails in here or would you rather carry it all the way up to San Antonio so we can crucify you for the whole mob to see."

She shook her head but stayed silent. Tony closed the distance between them with two steps and clasped her shoulders.

"Pepper... you need to stop."

"I can't do this anymore. Just… just fire me."

He pulled her into a hug. "I don't blame you, Pep. I swear, I don't and you need to stop blaming yourself."

One of his hands held her steady and pressed against him at the small of her back. The other softly rubbed her back, drawing small circles between he shoulder blades Her head came to rest on his shoulder and he just let her cry. “I promise I don’t blame you, Pep. I never will.” His hand came up and ran through her long hair, then slowly stroked along her neck. She was all he had now. If she…if she were to leave he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Only as her tears fell onto his collarbone did he remember that he was still only in boxers and his robe. He took a deep breath willing his body not to give her another reason to leave.

"I need you, Pep. I'm lost without you." He closed his eyes. He was such a selfish bastard. She wasn’t happy here. Who could blame her? Tony shifted slightly which made her pull back and reach for another handkerchief. He quickly readjusted his robe, cursing the messy display he put on. He cleared his throat.

"If you really don't want to stay, I... of course I understand." He gestured around the workshop with a final motion to himself. "I know, this is a lot to keep up with."

She blew her nose. Still not looking directly at him. "How can you trust me, Tony. After everything. If I -"

"Let's not do 'what-if's alright? You think I don't have any 'what if's?” He shook his head, rubbing his brow. “What if we'd just taken him for a week to Aspen like _you_ told me to or if I'd at least told you to stick the location at the beach? What if I'd actually _been_ there What if I had stuck to the one promise I had made my son and hadn't gone into a fucking board meeting on his birthday?" He tried his best to keep his voice from rising once more. "You're not the only one with regrets, Pepper."

She nodded quietly, then shrugged her shoulders and looked up at him. "It's not your fault," she offered.

Tony gave a dry chuckle. "Man, that phrase really doesn't do anything for me."

"Ditto."

They stood in silence for a bit.

“I’ll _never_ not be sorry, Tony.”

He nodded, then gave a short shrug. “Just help me find him then.”

She looked up at him, brow furrowed. “What… I mean, of course, I will, but how-“

“JARVIS is decrypting the LAPD’s files right now. These idiots are useless. I should have done this myself months ago!”

Her mouth fell open and he braced himself. Hacking police files was illegal and Pepper Potts did not do illegal. But they just stood in silence, her eyes on him, until she cleared her throat.

"You better put some clothes on."

"Hey, are you scolding me? I thought we were having a moment?!"

She rolled her eyes. "Moment's over."

"Are you still trying to make me fire you?" He stared at her. There was no beating around the bush with Pepper. He had to know where she was at.

Her eyes still held the same sadness but she shook her head. "No. Not today."

“Are you gonna call Detective twerp and tell on me?”

She bit her lip. “Just tell me how I can help.”

He smiled and pointed at the car behind him. "Right now, I really need a scrub nurse. What do you think about giving the 1932 Ford a more fiery look?"

She laughed and rubbed the last of her tears from her face. "I'm not a mechanic, Tony..."

"You're clever. You'll learn! JARVIS, an update when you’re done…"

**_“Will do, Sir.”_ **

*

Tony sifted through the dust of his living room, brushing off picture frames. He'd been staring at a particular picture of him and Pepper in the workshop, covered in orange paint in front of his 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster. The car was destroyed along with his LA Mansion. For a moment at the time he had considered fishing the remains of the car out of the Pacific, but he wasn't sure if he could stomach the destruction after everything they had been through with Aldrich Killian. Some things were better to stay buried. Not this picture though. Not this memory of Pepper and him.

He dusted it off, carrying it over to his desk.

"FRIDAY, we need a few new frames in here."

_**"I will put it on the list, Boss."** _

He looked up and his heart skipped a beat, a very unmanly scream fought its way out of his throat as he staggered back from the windows.

"Oh my god..."

That little freak in his red and blue onesie was pressing his face against the window and waved at him.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me. FRIDAY, what happened to the little head's up when there are people lurking outside the window that we discussed?"

_**"I'm sorry, Boss. You haven't implemented my sensors at the Tower yet."** _

"Right..." He walked over to the balcony door, sticking his had outside. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Hi there, Mr. Stark. I... um... I happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I'd chec-" he coughed slightly "erm, thought I'd have a look what you're up to."

"Are you trying to babysit me?"

"Noooo. Just, you know. Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, hanging out in the area. I saw there still was light on, so..."

Tony's brows shot up, but he chuckled. "Fine. Come on in. You want a drink?"

The Spiderling hesitated but followed Stark through the door to the inside of the Tower.

"I'm good, thanks."

Tony shook his head and walked towards his liquor cabinet, that was miraculously still intact.

"Wow, Mr. Stark. What happened here? Party gotten a little out of hand?"

"Hostile AI wrecking havoc."

Tony poured himself a glass as the other man took in a sharp breath. "Ultron's doing? Yikes."

"Yup. So, Spiderling. Any particular reason, I owe this visit to."

He clapped his hands together and looked in Tony's direction. "Not really, like I said -"

His back leaned against the cabinet Tony tilted his head. "Yeah, yeah, the light's were on. How's Brooklyn?"

"Queens. I live in Queens."

"Oh, so you do live there."

"Erm." The guy shifted from one foot to the other.

Tony could have sworn that he had hit a sore spot, but with that mask, there was no telling. He took a sip of his drink.

"Spit it out, what do you want?"

"Honestly, just wanted to see how you were doing. It's not every day someone intercepts me on patrol and you seemed a little... a little..."

"A little..?" Tony looked at him expectantly.

"Well, it doesn't matter. You're obviously fine now, so... you know, I guess..." he pointed back to the door and retreated a couple of steps.

"Hold it, Spiderling." The guy froze. Well, at least _someone_ still listened to him. He took another sip, then kept his eyes on the amber liquid as it swirled in the glass. "I understand why you're here and being the gentleman I am, I'm not going to beat around the bush with you. You came all this way and it's only fair. So, what do I owe you?"

"Owe me?" The Spider unfroze. He crossed his arms and tilted his head.

His eyes were back and he studied every little movement. That damn mask made it really difficult to read the man. "Yes, I owe you. You had Miss Potts' back. I'm in your debt for protecting what's most precious to me. So, spit it out. What do you want."

The Spiderling’s head tilted to the other side when he cleared his throat. "Well... I... um. Nothing in particular would... come to mind right now. It's... erm..."

"Just staking your claim. That's fine." Tony nipped at his Scotch again, eyes fixed on the stranger in his penthouse. "A debt is a debt and I'm good for it."

The Spiderling nodded somewhat hesitantly "Well, that's great news."

Tony flashed a smile and stood up straight. "Great doing business with you. Now, off to Brooklyn you go."

"Queens."

"Yeah, yeah. Next time, use the front door. I don't appreciate people hang off of my living room windows." He shooed him out the balcony door and turned back to his disaster of a living room before he froze, spun around and called out of the balcony door.

"You wouldn't have wanted to use the..." He looked up and down the balcony. No Spiderling to be found. "elevator," he finished quietly.

"Oh well..." He closed the door and downed the rest of his drink.

"So, FRIDAY, what's missing to get those sensors up and running?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will post the next one probably around the weekend


	6. I Don't Like Mondays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frustrations are running high.

"You're behind, honey bear..."  
  
"Nope, nope, nope, just a sec..."  
  
"Nuh-uh, you're never gonna... shit..shitshitshiiit."  
  
"Bye, bye, loser!"  
  
Tony jumped off the couch, pressing the keys with all the force he could muster.  
  
"Fuck, damn it, GAH!" He threw the controller across the room and he turned to Rhodey. "You're supposed to be here to make me feel better. I hope you're ashamed of yourself!"  
  
Rhodey, on the other hand, was roaring with laughter - holding his stomach, crying sort of laughter - at the sight of Tony all flustered.  
  
"I am so not! I said we should hang out, not that I'll let you win just to make you feel better!"  
  
"FRIDAY! Transcript!"  
  
_**"Boss, I'm afraid pulling up the telephone transcript would not work out in your favor."**_  
  
That set Rhodey off for another roar of laughter.  
  
"Really? Do I have anybody left on my team?" Tony let himself fall back onto to sofa.  
  
"Aww, come here..." Rhodey reached for him and tried to plant a kiss on his cheek.  
  
"Nope. Nope. Come on now!" Tony struggled against Rhodey's grip.  
  
"Fine." He let go and leaned over the armrest to fish a couple of beers out of the cooler. "We really need to talk about your logistics here. What happened to the fridge?"  
  
"I'm not allowed a fridge." He shrugged, sat up straight on the couch and mimed a headmaster pose including accusingly raised index finger. "Food is to be consumed in the common area and small talk is to be made with one's team members for an optimal bonding experience."  
  
"You're kidding..."  
  
Tony opened his beer with a pop. "Nope." He popped the 'p' aping his beer.  
  
"Well, moving back to the Tower makes more sense now. What's the time frame on that?"  
  
Tony took a sip, shrugging his shoulders. "I've done some cleanup yesterday, but I really want to restructure the penthouse. It's all very open and I'm kind of over that. I've really started to appreciate doors again." He raised his brows suggestively at Rhodey and then rolled his eyes taking another sip of the beer.  
  
"I bet. So where are you at so far?"  
  
"I've implemented FRIDAY earlier today. Connected her to the sensors I had in place from JARVIS already."  
  
Rhodey looked up at him, eyebrows knitted close together. "You never implemented FRIDAY at the Tower?"  
  
Tony shook his head. "No, I guess... It's like having the new kid move into the dead kid's room."  
  
"JARVIS is not really dead though."  
  
"Well, he's not exactly alive either. Sure, he's part of Vision's makeup. But that's not the same."  
  
Rhodey nodded. "How did it go then?"  
  
"Honestly, it was fine. I actually got a motivation boost last night, when the Spiderling was suddenly clinging to the window of the penthouse."  
  
His friend snorted and coughed on his drink, beer dripping out of his nose and splattered all over his chin.  
  
"Dude...gross!" Tony shook a few droplets of liquid off his arm.  
  
Between a couple more coughs, Rhodey stuttered. "What's a Spiderling? And what is it doing clinging to the windows of your skyscraper?"  
  
"It's this dude...FRIDAY pull up those Spider-Man videos."  
  
Rhodey's eyebrows shot up as he watched and listened to Tony's story about a man who could stick to buildings and shot spider-webs from his wrists.  
  
"So, is it a gimmick?"  
  
"Not sure."  
  
"Like, does that white stuff come from inside his arm?" Rhodey wrinkled his nose. "That's nasty!"  
  
"Don't know."  
  
"Tony, how are you not freaked out by this?"  
  
He shrugged and leaned back on the couch, beer still in hand. "I think he's kinda cool."  
  
"What's happening? Dude, you should be all over this, figuring out what the guy wants and if he's a threat."  
  
Tony gave another shrug "He's been tying up purse thieves and carjackers. I don't think there's much for us to worry about."  
  
Rhodey's looked, nose pinched, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. "So why was he up there?"  
  
"Apparently he's attracted by light."  
  
"Why are you speaking in code?"  
  
Tony chuckled. "I guess it was payback, I kinda ambushed him on Thursday night."  
  
Rhodey's mouth fell open. "That's where you were all night?"  
  
"Not all night. We had a little chat. He..." Tony took another sip of his beer. "Well, he actually helped Potts out of a delicate spot."  
  
"He happened to help out Pepper?” Rhodey’s eyebrows shot up even more. “Yeah, that doesn't sound fishy at all!"  
  
Tony sighed "I know. So, I checked it out. Checked him out. I had FRIDAY do a bit of analysis of his patterns, sightings, eyewitness accounts, the whole shebang." He shrugged. "He doesn't seem like a criminal mastermind as far as I can tell. I'll keep an eye on it."  
  
"Huh. Alright then. Speaking of Pepper..."  
  
Tony rolled his eyes.  
  
"Have you talked to her?"  
  
"Mhm."  
  
"Recently?"  
  
"Yeah sure, we had a very amicable chat the other day..."  
  
"I'm talking recently as in the last 36h."  
  
Tony sighed. "I called. She doesn't answer." Rhodey grimaced and quietly sipped his beer. "She's pissed. I get it."  
  
"That she is."  
  
"Did you talk to her?"  
  
"I'm not getting in the middle of this."  
  
"Fine by me. So, about my Mario Cart revenge-"  
  
"Nope, we're not done."  
  
Tony groaned. "Come on, Rhodey. What do you want me to say? I fucked up. It's not the first time. Won't be the last. She'll get over it."  
  
"She's worried, Tony. We're both worried."  
  
"Nothing new about that either." He got up and walked all the way to the other side of the lab and retrieved the controller.  
  
"I'll be coming back to New York more frequently. Bit more training units."  
  
"I don't need a babysitter, Platypus."  
  
"I'm not babysitting. I'm your friend. Friends spend time together. More than we have recently."  
  
"Fine. I can live with that." Tony dropped back onto the couch.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Can we get back to me kicking your ass at Nintendo now?"  
  
"It amazes me, how your brain works..." Rhodey laughed. "A true genius' mind..."

**

A grey, wet Monday morning was darkening Peter's day. After he had reveled in a high over the weekend courtesy of his amazing Friday night, his mood quickly spiraled down. He'd hunted villains in freaking Manhattan and climbed a huge skyscraper from the outside. Hell, he'd been offered a Scotch - or something - by Tony Stark, made small talk and exchanged favors. His life had gotten freaking amazing. For about a day.  
  
He was bursting with excitement, dying to talk to someone about what had happened to him. But he couldn't. Nobody knew. Nobody could know! Even May had commented on his good mood and he had been so close to telling her, but there was no way. She would just freak out. She'd probably ground him for the next century or two. He was absentmindedly clicking away on his pen and stared over to Ned. Telling Ned. He'd freak out too. Like, a lot. The possibility that he’d let something slip were… well… enormous. There was the benefit that people most likely wouldn’t pay all that much attention to Ned geeking out, so even if he'd let something slip…  
  
Peter sighed. He kinda missed his window of opportunity there though. Ned kept going on and on about Spider-Man. He frequently wanted to theorize and Peter had stubbornly feigned disinterest and oblivion one too many times. Or ten. Ned would be mad. Peter had kept this to himself for so long and -  
  
"Mr. Parker!"  
  
Peter sat up straight and dropped his pen.  
  
"Now that I finally have your full attention, what can you tell me about today's Leap Day?"  
  
Peter blinked and rummaged his brain. "Erm. On Leap Day it's a custom that women propose to men."  
  
Mrs. Warren pursed her lips. "I was really talking about the astronomical significance. This is a school for Science and Technology after all."  
  
A balled up piece of paper hit him in the side of the head. He turned and stared into Flash's face. "LOSER!" He mouthed and Peter's head shot back to the front.  
  
"Ms. Jones?"  
  
"One solar year lasts for approximately 365 days and 6 hours. To account for the extra hours accumulated as a result of the 365-day Gregorian calendar our society adopted, an additional day is added every four years to prevent an otherwise unavoidable shift in our seasons and the accompanying confusion that would cause. February 29th is added every four years to align the calendar with the Sun's apparent position."  
  
Michelle turned towards him and gave him an unfazed look. He pouted and dove under the table for his pen.  
  
_He had known_ _that…_  
  
"Mr. Parker!"  
  
Peter shot up. With a loud bang, he hit his head on the tabletop in the process.  
  
"What consequences arise from a Leap Day being added every four years, Mr. Parker?"  
  
Peter rubbed the back of his head. _Come on, focus_ … "The... erm. There are people born on a Leap Day, that will have to... erm... Different countries determine February 28 or March 1st for when people come of age because when they turn 18 or 21 -"  
  
"We're still talking about science here, Mr. Parker." She turned away from him. "Mr. Leeds."  
  
"A Solar year is not exactly 365 days and 6 hours long. Adding one day every 4 years means an excess of about 44 minutes for every year or 3 extra days every 400 years. To compensate that three days are removed from the calendar every 400 years."  
  
"Very good, Mr. Leeds." Ned shot him a questioning look, but Peter just shrugged.  
  
"Mr. Parker, last chance at redemption for you: How is this adjustment implemented?"  
  
Peter cleared his throat. "The general rule of a leap year occurring every 4 years is suspended for selected years. A year divisible by 100 is not a Leap Year unless it is also divisible by 400."  
  
"Can you give me an example."  
  
"The years 2000 and 2400 are Leap Years while 2100, 2200 and 2300 won't be."  
  
"Glad to have you back, Mr. Parker."  
  
Peter fell back in his chair and bit back a deep sigh as he stared down at his notes.  
  
_This is torture..._

**

Tony was lying on his back, panting. He used his arms to block another one of Natasha's blows. Quickly he rolled to the side, got onto his knees before he leaned back to doge her and then he was back up on his feet.  
  
"Come on now, Tony, that was the easy part." She teased him to come closer, to put in a counter strike. "You never gonna get me on the mat if all you do is duck down."  
  
Tony circled her, kept his arms up. She’d have to think of something better. A bit of chatter was not gonna be enough to distract him.  
  
"Come on, old man. Show me what you got."  
  
He kept focusing on the movement of her legs, two steps to the right, half a step back. She could bait him all she wanted. Attacking Natasha would only leave him pinned down on the mat. And not in a good way.  
  
"We're not on the mat yet, Nat."  
  
She jumped towards him as soon he had opened his mouth. Predictable. He jumped out of her way and turned back towards her, as she sailed past him. She fell into a light run, once she realized she'd missed him and shook out her arm.  
  
"Seriously Tony, do you want to train or do you want to dance around in a circle for half an hour." She walked back towards him, annoyance clearly detectable in her voice.  
  
"Hey, I'm trying to survive here. I attack you, I'm done. And, in time, so is one of my spinal disks."  
  
"What's going on?" Rogers walked over from the other side of the gym.  
  
Natasha shook her head. "We're fine, Steve."  
  
They took positions again, circling each other.  
  
"Alright, let's see some action." Rogers had his arms crossed and still studied their encounter.   
  
_Great._ He had to keep his eyes on Natasha's step sequence. He’d need to find an in. There had to be a pattern. Some way she would give away her next move. Last time when her legs-.  
  
"Come on, guys." Rogers clapped his hands.  
  
Right away Natasha stepped towards him, then brought her leg up into a back-turn as she aimed a kick at Tony. Once again he dodged her leg and stayed up on his feet.  
  
"Come on, Tony! You can't wait forever! You have to attack at some point!" Rogers prodded him.  
  
He feigned a step forward and jumped to the side as soon as Natasha answered his movement with a leap towards him. Tony ducked to the other side. If he managed to circle her from behind he might… Nope. She was just too fast.  
  
"Put more energy into it!"  
  
Tony rolled his eyes, dropped his arms and turned towards Rogers. "Dude, can you maybe -"  
  
Just as he had turned, Natasha had launched into another attack and kicked him square into the chest. It rushed all the air out of his lungs and he crashed to the ground, Natasha on top of him. His head hit the mat, his eyes widened and he gasped for air. Natasha climbed of him quickly as he was still panting and coughing for oxygen. A deep sting in his chest already grew into a sharp pain.  
  
Rogers had let out a yell and jabbered something that didn't make it all the way into Tony's consciousness. Natasha kneeled next to him, a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Tony, are you ok?"  
  
He looked up at her, his body still in shock from the forceful impact and struggled to even out his breathing. He gave a short nod, laid back and closed his eyes. Urgh… That hurt. Breathing through the pain didn’t really do anything for him so he decided to go for the path of distraction. He focused on the noise which turned out to be a bad idea.  
  
"What the hell was that? Can you take this seriously for once in your life, Tony?"  
  
"Shut up, Rodgers." His voice raw and croaking. His lung still burned.  
  
"What was that? You're supposed to spar, not procrastinate till practice is over."  
  
"Shut up, Rodgers!" He repeated, his voice a little steadier.  
  
"It's disrespectful!"  
  
"Oh my god." He groaned and opened his eyes. He popped himself up on his lower arms and glared at Rodgers. "I'm waiting for her to make a mistake. It's the only way I can get her. She's faster and more agile than me and completely unpredictable."  
  
"Great, is that what we have to look forward to fighting alongside you? You'll just be waiting around for the bad guys to make some mistakes?"  
  
"Usually I have a little more firepower at my disposal to launch an attack," he gritted his teeth. _Asshole._  
  
"You can't always rely on your suit, Tony!" Natasha chimed in.  
  
"Which is, why I'm not in it right now..." Were they serious right now? How was he supposed to overpower the superspy in close combat?!  
  
Rogers still loomed over him, arms crossed and glared down at him disapprovingly. "Well, I assume you're done for the day."  
  
He turned and walked back to the other side of the gym where Wanda and Sam had stopped and watched what was going on. "Just keep going guys. The rest of us is not done yet."  
  
Tony threw his arms up in defeat. _Just great._ Natasha bend down and offered him a hand up.  
  
"I'm sorry. Just say something _before_ you fall out of position next time."  
  
He bit his tongue and swallowed the testy retort that was already forming in his mind.  
  
"You good?"  
  
"Peachy."  
  
He stalked out of the gym towards his bedroom. Oh, all the kinds of ways he could spend the day kicking Rogers' ass. He walked in and started to throw his clothes off in a huff, but winced when he pulled the shirt over his head. A glance in the mirror revealed an angry looking red blotch on his chest that was going to develop into a nice, big bruise. He poked around the area and tested out the pain level. Nothing too severe, his sternum felt like it was okay, only the scars left from the Arc looked angrier than usual, their white tissue more pronounced against the darker tone his skin was taking on. He closed his eyes, rubbing his face.  
  
_He had to just let it go. He couldn’t change it, no point in obsessing about it._  
  
He opened his eyes and stared at himself in the mirror. That would bruise properly. He sighed and lifted his gaze from his chest to look into his own eyes.  
  
"Just... let it go."  
  
He stepped into the shower and let the hot water engulf his body. His brian just needed to shut up!   
  
Half an hour later he was sitting behind his desk and stared at his phone. 11:15 am on a Monday was no time for Potts to be free to talk so he might as well save the call for later. He didn't trust his mood anyway and he certainly didn't need another conversation with Pepper to turn confrontational.  
  
"FRIDAY has any response come in from the contractors you contacted regarding the penthouse remodel?"  
  
**_"There is one offer, Sir. But I recommend waiting for additional responses. The proposal seems quite overpriced including an excessive amount of hours."_**  
  
"More than you calculated, I assume?"  
  
_**"About 2.3 times the hours I estimate necessary for the remodel, Boss."**_  
  
"Well, we can't be everybody's golden goose. Let's wait for the other proposals then."  
  
_**"Sir, Miss Romanov is waiting in front of the lab, asking to be admitted."**_  
  
Tony sighed. "Let her in, tell her I'm upstairs." He jumped out of his chair.  
  
_**"She's on her way, Sir."**_  
  
"Thanks, FRI."  
  
Tony cleared some of the SI documents off the table and threw them into his desk drawer along with the ice pack, that he had been pressing onto his chest. There was a key to lock them on his desk somewhere… He was confident that Natasha would find her way into those if she was out for SI intel, but that was no reason to make it easy for her.  
  
"You up there?"  
  
"Yup." He'd just cleared the shelf space behind him of any obvious documents that could have potential NDAs connected to them and turned to see her walk up the steps from the lab.  
  
"I don't think I've ever been up here. Is this your secret man cave?"  
  
"I usually make it a rule not to invite people up here. The board encourages me to keep SI business at arm's length from the Superhumans."  
  
Natasha shrugged, "Not a Superhuman."  
  
"Yeah, well that's debatable."  
  
She smirked and indicated the plate and cups she was carrying. "I brought coffee and sandwiches..."  
  
"Well, in that case, I'm inclined to make an exception." He sat back down and reached for the cup she'd just placed on the desk in front of him.  
  
"Uh-uh, first things first, how's your chest." She swatted his hand away.  
  
"It's fine." He reached out once more and again her hand pushed him away from the coffee mug.  
  
"Come on, let me see!"  
  
"Ha! Yeah, that's not happening."  
  
"Don't be a baby, take that shirt off and let me see."  
  
"Natasha, no."  
  
"Don't be such a prude!"  
  
He felt a flush creeping up his neck.  
  
"I'm in a crime-fighting boy band, whose members feel the need run around shirtless every time they even slight exercise. Believe me, a shirtless dude does not faze me at this point."  
  
He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back in his chair. "I told you, it's fine. I checked it earlier. No harm done."  
  
She narrowed her eyes. "If I let you have the coffee first, will you tell me why you're being weird about this?"  
  
"The only weird thing is your obsession to have me take my shirt off." He shook his head, leaning back in the chair.  
  
"Tony, I hurt you. I'm sorry. Let me help."  
  
He leaned forward. "Coffee first!"  
  
She smiled and slid the cup over to his side of the desk. He took a gulp and pointed her towards the chair on the other side of the desk. Natasha just sat there, watching him, waiting.  
  
"Stop analyzing me."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"Liar."  
  
"No more than usual..."  
  
He sighed and got up. "Fine. Let's get this over with." He grabbed the bottom of his shirt, carefully working himself out of it, determined not to let any discomfort show. Natasha got up and stepped around the desk to have a closer look.  
  
She grimaced, pinching her nose. "How's your sternum."  
  
"It's fine." He shifted a bit, certain that she was taking in more than just the angry redness of the bruise. Maybe it was his nerves but the scar tissue from the Arc seemed to stand out even more than it did in his bathroom earlier.  
  
"Nothing cracked?"  
  
"I don't think so." She didn't touch him. That was a relief. She ended up shrugging and only pointed back to his shirt.  
  
"I'm going to save my breath about seeing a doctor if it doesn't improve over the next couple of days. You should at least ice it though."  
  
His shirt pulled back on, Tony let himself fall back into his chair. He unlocked the top drawer and fished out the ice pack.  
  
"Aw, Tony! You're hiding your ice pack from me? Not sure if I should be touched or offended..." She offered him the plate with the sandwiches she had brought.  
  
They sat in silence for a minute eating and drinking their coffee.  
  
"You don't have to hang out here just because you feel guilty, you know."  
  
"I don't feel guilty. I'm just sorry. Different story."  
  
"I see. Sorry, I wasn't aware of that distinction..."  
  
"We spared, you got hurt. It happens. You can't let Steve get under your skin like that, Tony. I know the team's had a few rough months and Steve's team building missions aren't necessarily your cup of tea, but we need you on this team. They need to know that you have their backs."  
  
Tony shook his head. "I have their backs! I've always had their backs."  
  
"I know that, but you know how the guys tick. You're an anomaly to them. They don't understand how you work - honestly, few people do - and Bruce isn't here..." She bit her lip. "He isn't here to buffer it anymore."  
  
Tony stared at his coffee. He really didn’t want to snap at her but his temper wasn’t easy to control. "Is this where you tell me not to move back to the Tower?"  
  
"No, actually, I think, it's a good idea, as long as you don't use it as an excuse to stay hidden in your lab over there even more than you currently are here."  
  
"I already told Rodgers. I'm still going to keep a lab at the Compound to work on the Equipment and things."  
  
Natasha nodded. "Good. You guys need to get your shit together."  
  
He drummed his finger and bit the inside of his cheeks. _He was_ keeping his shit to himself if only certain other people wouldn’t-  
  
"Tony."  
  
"Yes, I understand."  
  
"Look at me!"  
  
He did, lips pressed flat.  
  
"I'm not saying this is all you. Not by a long shot. It's not all just them either though."  
  
He nodded, his eyes back on the cup. "Understood."  
  
She got up. "I'll talk to Steve. I'll try to buffer you, but I need you to pull your own weight."  
  
"I'm trying."  
  
She nodded. "Good. I'll see you for practice tomorrow."  
  
His eyes shot back up at her.

"Conference room 2B. Bring a pen. We'll be going over your close combat technique."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading. 
> 
> I still have a couple more chapters of exposition to get through to set some things up. Bear with me, I'm looking forward to getting this into the next gear.


	7. Old Wounds, Fresh Cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a bad conscience and Tony tries to distract himself from his.

It had been a long week for Peter. His frustration had continually been building up and every day turned out crappier than the previous one. His mind constantly wanted to drift off even now as he read through his notes from biology class. Well, Ned's notes. Peter never really was the kind of student who had to sit down and study. He was lucky enough to just pick up most of the facts by listening in class, which came in handy with all the afternoons and evenings he spent with Spider-Man patrols. His level of frustration was directly proportionate to his listening abilities though, it seemed. After the embarrassing episode in Mrs. Warren's class, he'd been called out repeatedly by different teachers throughout the week for daydreaming. He wasn't really daydreaming though, he'd been building his case. He was bursting with his big secret. He needed to talk to someone - really anyone – but first had to try and figure out the best way to tell Ned or May. It was driving him mad. The constant tension and worry that he would let something slip. Everything he had experienced unload his stories on or bounce his questions off.  
  
For more than a week he had mulled over his speeches to May and Ned in his head, there was one thing he'd realized though. He didn't know enough. He didn't really understand what had happened to him - well, apart from the obvious result of the radioactive spider bite that had left him with spider powers, somehow. But he had no idea what had actually happened to his body. If he were to tell Ned he’d be sure of one thing: he’d be bombarded with a million questions about his powers and what it meant and how it worked and how it felt. And he didn’t have a single answer to any of it. No, it just wasn’t an option. As much as all the secrecy started to bother him, he first had to find some more answers.  
  
Now, telling May would not just mean a million questions in addition to a thousand reproachful scoldings. If he ever wanted to even start to work on getting May's blessing to keep his Spider-Man career going, he would definitely have to be able to answer some of those questions. So far, he'd really just gone with the flow. He tested out his strength and his boundaries. He had no idea if his powers were at all evolving or changing. Was he as strong as he had been that first time he had surprised himself with actually being able to lift a car? He was healing faster now than he had before the bite. A lot faster. Any scratch would be gone in a few hours. He had cut his finger helping May prepare dinner the other week. It had hurt like hell and the cut had been deep enough to send May running for the first-aid kit.

"Let me see that." May hurried back from the bathroom, first-aid kit in hand."  
  
"It's fine, I can do it!"  
  
"Don't be silly, show me!"  
  
He took off the paper towel he'd been pressing on his left index finger and let her take his hand.  
  
"Oh, god! Put that towel back on your finger and put some pressure on it!" She opened the kit, cursed under her breath. Peter could see her shuffle through the limited material still left in the box.  
  
"It's fine, May! It'll stop bleeding on its own in a bit!"  
  
"You, be quiet!" She took a deep breath and Peter groaned in frustration.  
  
"Seriously, May, I know you can't stand blood. It'll be fine."  
  
She had found a piece of wound-dressing and a small roll of gauze.  
  
"Finger!"  
  
He rolled his eyes and stretched out his left hand towards her. She dragged him closer to the kitchen sink and turned on the water. After she had tested the temperature she eased his finger under the soft stream and swallowed hard eyes on the blood flowing out of his wound as it mixed with the water. "Does that hurt?"  
  
"It stings a little, but it's not too bad."  
  
"Alright." She held his hand and turned his finger from side to side to clean the wound. Peter could feel it throbbing and took a deep breath, careful to be quiet about it. He struggled to keep a straight face. May would freak out if he let this get to him. It did sting. He'd dealt with small scrapes and the odd bump since becoming Spider-Man. Especially in the beginning when he was still figuring out his strength, his clumsiness earned him a few scraped knees and bruises when he occasionally got knocked against a building wall before he was able to completely control his swinging. Nothing too serious though. Nothing too hurtful. And the injuries disappeared within a few hours. As he was watching the blood flow freely from the deep cut in his finger, he truly realized for the first time since he had started his crime-fighting that a proper injury, if something were to pierce his skin… It would hurt. A lot. His Spidey-powers were no help here. They didn't dull the pain. The longer he looked at his finger, the stronger the sting seemed to get. Were his senses amplifying the pain?  
  
"Peter, are you alright? You've gone all white!" Her hand softly ruffled his hair, then wandered down cupping his face. "Should we take you to the emergency room? Get this stitched up?"  
  
"No!" He shook his head and pulled his hand back. The blood-soaked paper towel tightly in his hand, he quickly covered the finger with it. "It's just a small cut. I'll be fine!"

It would heal super quick. There was absolutely no way he'd let May pay a ridiculous emergency room bill for something that his healing factor would handle in no time!  
  
"It's pretty deep, Peter. It will probably scar."  
  
"It's just a cut."  
  
May bit her lip and studied him. "Alright then." She reached for his hand again, carefully applied the wound dressing and then wrapped it with gauze.  
  
"We'll look at it in the morning. If there's any sign of infection, we'll go straight to the doctor."  
  
Peter's eye widened. "It's... it'll be just fine!" He had no idea how fast this cut would heal, but he assumed fast enough that May would get mighty suspicious come morning time if his finger happened to look almost untouched.  
  
"Go sit down, honey. I'll finish dinner."  
  
That night he could hardly sleep at all. His alarm was set to 5:30. That would give him an hour before May got up, but he just couldn't go to sleep. His mind mulled over all the possibilities again and again. Well, the two possibilities he could come up with to keep May in the dark about his accelerated healing speed. He could either leave the apartment before she was properly awake and would remember that she wanted to check his finger or he would have to, well, recreate the wound. Take that knife from the kitchen counter and slice up his own finger deep enough to convince May. His heart would race just at the thought and a shiver ran through his body. A glance to his bedside table told him that it was 1:20 am. He was slowly stroking his finger, before he softly pressed onto the wound. It was still tender and the cut throbbed slightly, but there was no telling how far along the healing process had gotten. It was still covered by gauze and he wasn’t really into the idea to take it off. What if the cut was gone come morning. He gasped for air. He would have to run for the kitchen and grab the knife to cut his finger. What if the panic had made him forget which finger was injured in the first place?  
  
"Stop it." His voice shook. He needed calm the eff down.  
  
In the morning Peter just couldn’t do it. His head would fill with the beat of his erratic heart and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Just the thought of pulling back the gauze... no! By the time May got up, he was already dressed for school, really just waiting for her to come out of her bedroom so he could shout a quick "Totally forgot, early project meeting with Ned!" and dash from the apartment before May could even answer. It took him another 30 minutes and a nice morning sandwich from Delmar's to muster up the nerve to take off the bandage.  
  
A red line was still clearly visible, but the wound had completely dried up and was almost closed. He had let out a shaky breath and bit the nails on his right hand. All he could do was to just stare at the finger. Come evening, there wouldn't be much of a wound left for May to inspect. Unless...

His head propped up in his right hand, Peter had his elbow resting on his desk. He had abandoned his biology notes to stare at his left index finger. No scar, no nothing that reminded of the incident from a few weeks ago. Nothing that would suggest that he had cut this finger what had felt like to the bone. In the rational part of his mind, he knew that it hadn't been that deep of a cut, but to his panicked brain, that's what it had felt like. Definitely deep enough that is would have taken a normal person a couple of weeks to heal. In his panic to keep May in the dark, he had reopened that wound twice a day for over a week. It was probably the most messed up thing he'd done since he had become Spider-Man. Well, the most messed up thing he had done, period. May could never find out about that particular incident. Even if he could muster up the courage to tell her about his Spidey-powers, this little anecdote was too much.  
  
He wasn't sure if his healing had changed since he had first developed his enhancements. If it had improved over time or if his powers came in all at once. There was no way to tell and his healing factor was definitely not among the things he would poke around in his quest for answers. The less he needed that particular skill, the better.  
  
He could test out his strength and his agility and then just assume whatever increase or decrease he could record over time would be directly related to his healing factor as well. More important would be to figure out if the bite had changed his human makeup, his core. He reached over for Ned’s biology notes on the discovery of the DNA Double Helix. This would have to be his starting point.

**

Tony was sitting outside on the platform of his Penthouse, coffee in hand. He'd been discussing the remodel with two different contractors all morning and most of the afternoon. It hadn't been hard to pick out the more qualified one, or rather the one who would promise to deliver results promptly. A little bonus incentive had persuaded the man to start the next day. Never let it be said that money can't buy happiness. His own floors in the tower with all the personal freedom of movement that entailed was all the happiness he could wish for right now. His plan was unfolding nicely and with the little extra financial injection, the groundwork would be done in about a week. It was only a few walls and a proper paint job after all. He turned back around and headed inside. It was only March and up on the 68th floor, the wind tended to be chilly.  
  
"FRIDAY, I'm going to need a few suggestions on what furniture to buy."  
  
_**"Of course, Sir. I can research the latest interior design blogs and trade fair articles for current trends."**_  
  
"Hmm..."  
  
_**"I could also forward you additional information on room arrangements corresponding to the latest scientific findings concerning its influence on mood and personality attributes."**_  
  
"Didn't we redo SI HQ in LA last year?"  
  
_**"Yes, Sir. Miss Potts oversaw most of the remodel and the coordination of the interior design. I can inform her about your desire to-"**_  
  
"No!"  
  
_**"Very well, Sir."**_  
  
"Just... just send me the list of the furniture she bought... I just want to browse through it."  
  
_**"Will do, Boss."**_  
  
Tony looked down at his phone. It had been over a week. He'd tried to call her last Saturday, but she hadn't answered. He had tried again before Rhodey came to visit. Honestly, he hadn't been surprised when she hadn't picked up. At first Tony had been glad when the call went to voicemail and he hadn't bothered to leave a message. He had not really been ready to talk to her and she had all the right in the world to still be pissed. He had called again on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday... every day for over a week. He sighed. After a week, on Saturday he had left the first voicemail, had asked her to call him back, told her he didn't want to apologize via her answering machine. But she hadn't. He'd tried again every day at noon and after the evening news when he'd be less likely to disturb her routine.  
  
Just as he was about to put the phone back into his pocket if rang and Rogers face popped up on the screen.  
  
"Urgh..."  
  
**_"Boss, we have a code B1."_**  
  
He picked up the call at once. "Rogers, shoot."  
  
"Subject we've been monitoring. Biochemical. Van heading west from Queens towards Manhattan, probably Queensboro Bridge. Target assumed to be the subway. Lexington Avenue station on 59th street most convenient on the route."  
  
The suit had assembled around Tony.  
  
"I'm at the Tower, only a minute trip for me."  
  
"We're leaving the Compound in a couple of minutes. I need you to wait."  
  
"Wait? Are you serious?"  
  
"You can't handle this on your own. They might set it off prematurely if they know we're onto them!"  
  
"Yeah, cause the Quinjet will be super low key. Come on, Cap!"  
  
"The Quinjet can be cloaked. We're boarding now. Stay out of sight!"  
  
Rogers hung up and left Tony planted in the living room of the penthouse in the Iron Man suit. Okay… what was the most inconspicuous way that he could get himself 17 blocks to the north?  
  
"FRI, did we get any tracking data from the team to monitor the subject?" He went outside onto the platform, his gaze towards Queens. "And, also, the team?"  
  
_**"Not so far, Boss."**_  
  
Tony opened up the channel to the team com "Cap, do you read me?"  
  
Radio silence. They were not in range then. Yet. He paced up and down the platform.  
  
"Screw this." He jumped off to the southern side of the tower, circled around it and headed up Park Avenue. He kept himself high enough to be out of sight of the pedestrians and slow enough not to cause too much attention. The high Manhattan buildings to his right covered him for the eyes of anyone coming from the east.  
  
"Guys, do you read me?" He made it 57th street in about a minute and had landed on the Four Seasons only a couple blocks from the subway station he assumed Rogers had been talking about.  
  
"FRIDAY, pick out any vans coming over the bridge."  
  
_**"Will do, Boss."**_  
  
"Guys?"  
  
"Tony, we read you." Natasha's voice came through, still crackling. "We're about 10 miles out. Slowing down for final approach."  
  
"I'm on top of the Four Season. What am I looking for?"  
  
Rogers gave him the update. "White Van, no markings. 4 people. It's heading toward the bridge. Stay put for now, Tony."  
  
"Alright, Cap. Mind sending over the tracking info?"  
  
"Sam is sending you the data we have."  
  
Just then the van appeared on the interface of his helmet.  
  
"FRIDAY calculates that they are three minutes out."  
  
"We're here. Will leave the Quinjet cloaked overhead the station." Nat’s voice was strained as she was focused on the different levers and buttons to get the Quinjet in position.  
  
"Vision, get yourself down underground in case they try to run down the steps before we can get to all of them. Sam, I want you popped up on one of the middle sized buildings overhead the entrance to the station. Wanda, you're taking the other side. Nat and I will get down onto the sidewalk. Tony, any way you can make your way over here without causing a scene among the pedestrian?"  
  
"Well, I managed to come up Park just fine..."  
  
"Alright, I want you to stay on the corner of Park in case we miscalculated and they continue further west. If they do, engage. Wait for my sign though. Otherwise, we'll need to you get the civilians out of our way."  
  
"Copy that." Tony sighed and made his way off the Four Seasons further to the north. "They're on the bridge now."  
  
"Alright, everyone. Sam, Wanda, give us a heads up when you have eyes on them."  
  
A short "Copy, in position." came through from Wanda. Sam's drone showed up on Tony's radar.  
  
"Redwing has eyes on them. Scanning now. 4 dudes, alright. They all have breathing masks with them. Two of them carry what looks like vials. One might be a decoy. They're coming off the bridge now, should get off the feeder any moment."  
  
"Everyone in place?" The team confirmed their positions. Tony had made it to 59th street, staying high, he once again used the building on the corner as a shield.  
  
"They're here Cap," Sam spoke in a low but clear voice.  
  
"Copy, I have eyes on them as well. We need to find the weapon before we engage. Wanda?"  
  
"Van parked across the street. They're getting out."  
  
"Tall dude, leather Jacket is #1 one. The other tall dude with no hair has the second."  
  
"Wanda, you keep an eye out for those vials to appear. Secure them when you can."  
  
Then everything happened super fast. Bald, tall guy broke away from the group and headed towards the stairs that lead down to the subway. Natasha was on his heal, immediately warned Vision so they could trap him between them. Cap, Sam, and Wanda engage the other three and Wanda tried to immobilize Leather-Jacket. As soon as Tony could tell that they were made by the terrorists, he swooped in, stopped and diverted traffic. He urged people to run into the other direction as he got closer to the action.  
  
"We got the bald guy. Got the vial, clear liquid, probably the decoy." Nat was breathing heavily.   
  
"I'm tying him to the handrail on the stairs. Natasha is making her way up to the street." Visions voice, in contrast, was the personification of calm.  
  
"Did anyone inform the authorities to halt the subway line?" Tony had almost made it to Cap and Wanda. Sam flew overhead them. Maybe he would have circled around them, but the men had pulled out guns and backtracked slowly towards the bridge.  
  
"Not the time, Tony." Not the time? Was Cap serio- An explosion rocked the street and set the cars in front of them on fire.  
  
"They pulled out the grenades."  
  
"You didn't say anything about grenades, Sam!"  
  
"Sorry, Cap. Grenades were implied."  
  
Tony shot quickly toward the smoke, the suits scanners outlined moving bodies even though his own view was obstructed by smoke.  
  
"They're pulling in people." Tony updated the others.  
  
"He's right, 7 civilians now lined around them as shields. They keep moving towards the bridge." Sam had landed on top of The Home Depot and peered through the smoke.  
  
"Wanda, any chance you can access that vial?"  
  
"Sorry, Steve. It's fastened somewhere and won't budge."  
  
"We need to get those people out!" Tony could feel Rogers follow behind him. "Tony, what do you see?"  
  
"Two of them are threatening the civilians, one of them Leather-Jacket. The third is pulling more people in."  
  
"Distract them and Wanda and I will get the people out!"  
  
"Distract them how? I go at them, they might set off the device!"  
  
"Guys, something's happening." Sam pulled their attention back towards the terrorists turned kidnappers. Tony had just made it through the smoke, Rogers on his heals.  
  
"Nat, where are you at?"  
  
"I'm on your left, have eyes on them. Wanda's hovering somewhere above me. Fuck, this is getting tricky."  
  
Tony had his eyes still fixed on the group in front of him when Leather-Jacket stepped out in front of the crowd of hostages. He dragged a young woman by her neck, vial pressed against her face. His henchmen still fired shots towards Wilson and Wanda above them.  
  
"Avengers," his voice cold and mocking, "How about you fuck off and everyone here gets to go home in one piece?"  
  
Tony forced out the breath he had just realized he had been holding when Rogers' voice came quietly over the comm.  
  
"Wanda, any chance of getting that vial?" Another round of bullets delayed her answer to Rogers question.  
  
"He's gripping it too tightly. If I interfere, he might just smash it right there. Vis, can you get around them?"  
  
"Certainly!"  
  
"Wait, Vision. If we have someone shot out from behind them, it might escalate the situation." Steve was right behind him now. "Tony, what do we do?"  
  
The comm stayed quiet then. Tony mulled the situation over. Shit, there was no obvious path here. He could take them out execution-style but there was always a chance that the vial got smashed. If they would back off, Leather-Jacket might just strap on his mask, smash it and run for it. They couldn't advance any further or he might smash it either way in a panic and sacrifice himself in the process, so they stayed put.  
  
"Seriously, Cap, now you come to me for advice on a maneuver?"  
  
Rogers huffed. "We need to do something!"  
  
"I'm aware of that!" Tony gritted his teeth. His glance wandered over the buildings to their right side. "They're only a few feet from the crossing to 3rd Avenue. They'll probably want to move further down and then we’ll have the other two guys disappearing off to somewhere while we're kept here by Leather-Jacket. He'll give them a head start and pop that vial, probably put on his mask and take his chances to outrun us through the hostages." Tony took a deep breath and added in a low voice. "We have to engage, now."  
  
Rogers’ huff echoed through the comm. "We engage now and those hostages will die and who knows how many more as this is swept across town."  
  
"We wait and they'll probably die anyway and we let the terrorists escape to do it again." Tony flexed his muscles and got the suit into positions to strike. "I'll set up a headshot. Wanda could try to contain whatever's in that vial if he does crack it before I get to him."  
  
"I don't know if I can do that."  
  
"Well, give it your best shot."  
  
"Tony, you can't -" Rogers had taken a step towards him but froze when he realized. There was a commotion among the hostages. Leather-Jacket turned and looked back and forth. Before either of the Avengers could react he was covered in a cocoon-like an oversized caterpillar.  
The Avengers minus Tony were just as stunned as the hostages and actually missed a beat to follow the other two now escaping terrorists. _Oh boy…_ Tony blew out a deep breath and shot forward. “Come on, guys!” He shooed the remaining hostages out of the way and made them run towards the subway for cover. The henchmen skedaddled towards 3rd Avenue, headed into different directions while they kept up the firestorm to shield themselves. One of them threw another grenade not into the direction of the Avengers but towards the bridge. Their target dodged the grenade. Spider-Man then pinned the shell onto the street behind him and ducked at it exploded. The man dropped his arms, turned and stared at the hole the grenade had left in the middle of the road.  
  
"I got this Cap, go after them!"  
  
"Vision, Wanda, make your way to the left. Sam, come with me!"  
  
Tony focused on Leather-Jacket and the woman who still stood right next to him.  
  
"Nat, we need a perimeter," he quietly told her over the comm as he landed right in front of the terrorist and his young hostage.  
  
Natasha was right behind him, shouting orders at the law enforcement officers that had shown up, as he let his face mask retract. "Hey, young lady, you'll be just fine, alright. Deep breaths." He gave her what he hoped looked like a confident nod. The asshole had his legs and left arm webbed to the road and was immobilized. The other arm and the vial inside his hand glued to the girl. Just then did Tony realize that the girl too had been webbed to the street and to her kidnapper.  
  
"Hey, Spiderling! Snap out of it and get over here!"  
  
Spider-Man flinched before he tore his glance from the hole in the ground and the burning cars around him. He rolled back and forth on his feet before he took a few slow and small steps over to where Natasha now tried to soothe the girl. Tony pulled at the web on her arm but got nowhere.  
  
"Mr. Stark... Good to see you again." Nat's head shot up at Tony, her brow furrowed.  
  
"We need to get this off. I really don't want to use the laser around her."  
  
"She needs to stay still, ‘til you get that vial out of his hand first." Spider-Man kept his distance from them. As he spoke his eyes wandered up and down the street. "If that thing in his hand is what it seems to be, all these people need to get away fast."  
  
The girl's eyes widened and her breathing started to border on hyperventilating.  
  
"Thanks for that, Captain Obvious." Nat's voice came low and venomous. "Tony, what is going on here."  
  
Tony shook his head and her a look. Now was _not_ the time! The gauntlet on his right hand retracted now as well and he cupped the girl's face. "Alright, breath with me. You're okay. We'll get you out of this, alright." He mimicked a couple of deep breaths until he saw the Spiderling come closer.  
  
He put a hand on the girl's shoulder and awkwardly patted it twice. "He can't move his hand. I webbed it so he can't smash it or drop it." Then he looked up at Tony and tilted his head a bit.  
  
_Great._ He couldn’t drop it as long as he was glued in place. Glued to _her_. When they would free her, they would also free him.   
  
_Just great._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Sorry, I'm leaving it at a bit off a cliffhanger, but I'm not sure how much writing I am going to get done over the Christmas holiday. I'll try to update once more this year.


	8. The Spider's fight in Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is trying to help to save Manhattan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little longer than expected, sorry about that. Happy 2019, everyone!

If someone had told Peter that morning, that he'd be fighting alongside the Avengers just because he followed a tingling of his Spidey-senses after school... Yeah, sure, he'd had a couple of unreal run-ins with Tony Stark over the last two weeks, but this here... He was literally helping out the Avengers. And he was shaking in his boots for every second of it.  
  
Mr. Stark was looking at him expectantly as if he was supposed to know how to get them out of this pickle. He'd glued the dude to the girl because that had felt like it would be the only way to keep the dude from dropping what - judging from his threatening use of the thing and the Avengers' reactions - was some kind of a weapon. But that was it. He had no idea where to go from there. Meanwhile, Black Widow looked at him as if she was going to murder him in cold blood as soon as he'd turn his back. Luckily his mask was covering the shade of white his face had turned.  
  
"Nat, why don't you stay with the girl. We'll be right back." Peter gulped. Stark walked up to him and shoved him out of earshot of the two webbed up figures.  
  
"What did you do?"   
  
Peter bit his lip, hoping that his voice wouldn't betray him and show his insecurity. "You mean, besides trying to help you guys out?"  
  
Stark took hold of his arm, turning Peter to face him. "What did you do with his hand, genius!"  
  
"I..." Peter shifted his weight, very conscious of Iron Man holding him by his arm. "I made sure he can't flex his hand and then immobilized him."  
  
"Why can we not just get the web off her face? Is it going to unravel the hold on him if we do?"  
  
"I... I don't know."  
  
"How can you not know?"  
  
"I'm not usually the one who unties them."  
  
"So you're telling me that you have no idea how your... your equipment works?" The frustration apparent in Stark's voice.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I was just trying to -"  
  
"Yeah, I know. I know." Stark exhaled. "Tell me what you do know. What would you expect to happen when we free her."  
  
"There is tension on the strands. They balance each other out. If we cut one side, the stress on the individual strings changes and it would probably at least partially implode on itself. I don't think it'd be enough for him to free his hand and drop it. Whatever it is. But I think... I think the web would relax enough for him to be able to crush the vial and I assume... I assume we don't want that."  
  
"No..." Stark let got of him and rubbed his face with the still repulsor-less hand, "We don't want that." He sighed, mumbling under his breath. "Could just cut off the hand. He can't flex it if it's not attached to his arm."  
  
Peter's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Not that anyone would know, thanks to the mask. Apparently, his shock was obvious enough to register with Stark though, for he rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. "It was a joke. Get a grip."  
  
Peters jaw slammed shut and he felt stupid. He left young and dumb and completely overwhelmed by the situation. Stark next question didn't help.  
  
"Well, what would you do? Any suggestions on how we get out of this one?"  
  
Peter just stared at the ground, scratching his arm, mumbling some incomprehensible mash-up of "Don't know" and "Sorry" and "not sure".  
  
Stark turned away from him in frustration, staring at the girl and guy as if they held the answer. Peter could sense Black Widow approaching.  
  
"Cap wants an update. Wanda and Vision caught one of them, Steve and Sam are still on the chase."  
  
Stark sighed deeply, rubbing his hand across his face once more. "He's going to somehow put this mess on me, isn't he?"  
  
That caught Peter's attention. He looked up at the pair of them and found Black Widows eyes resting on himself. She turned her back towards him and spoke in a low voice, clearly thinking that Peter wouldn't be able to hear her.  
  
"Have you been meeting up with the Spider-dude? Without telling us?"  
  
Stark shook his head. "I checked him out after his run-in with Potts. That's it."  
  
"Tony, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to keep you in their good graces if you keep stuff like this to yourself!"  
  
"I'm not consciously excluding anyone from some kind of secret mission here. I was looking out for Peeper, that's it. Not a big deal."  
  
At that Peter could see Black Widow turn back towards him and he tried to make himself look as unsuspicious and non-listening as possible. Peter could feel her eyes on himself, studying him again. She turned back facing Stark.  
  
"What's the plan here, Tony. The girl is freaking out."  
  
"We need to get the vial without giving him a chance to smash it in the process. Freeing her before getting it doesn't seem to be an option because it's unclear what loosening the webs enough to get her off will do to the immobilizing effect it has on his hand."  
  
"Cut off the hand and be done with it?"  
  
Peter's eyes shot up at both of them as Black Widow just gave a shrug. "Shouldn't have been running around with biochemical weapons if he wants to keep all his limbs."  
  
"Yeah, I don't think cutting off hands in the middle of the street between Lexington and 3rd is the kind of publicity the Avengers need right now." While Peter felt relief at Stark's words, he was surely hoping that bad press was not the only thing holding him back from this particular approach. "We just need to find a way to secure the hand. Really shouldn't be all this complicated."  
  
Peter hastily spoke up at this, desperate to offer a solution that meant everyone would walk away with all their body parts attached. "He can't drop it, even if the web loosens when the girl's freed. His hand is webbed up tightly enough to prevent that. So, all we need to worry about is him not closing his hand. I could work some web around his fingers, pulling them back. That should keep him from smashing it."  
  
He kept his eyes on Tony, who nodded and shrugged at Black Widow.  
  
"Sounds like a plan to me."  
  
Peter could still feel Black Widows eyes on himself though. "Are you seriously gonna trust this dude, Tony?"  
  
Stark shrugged again. "No reason, why he should get involved just to screw us over." His eyebrows shot up, seemingly expecting an answer from Peter.  
  
"I... no... I won't. Of course not, Mr. Stark."  
  
The woman's expression didn't change though. "Never heard that one before..."  
  
Stark turned back to the two webbed up figures though, beckoning Peter to follow along.  
  
"Spiderling, your turn."  
  
Peter stepped up to the guy, carefully spinning out some web-strings, trying to keep the web shooters from being on display for the two Avengers behind him. Black Widow stepped around the pair to look at Peter's work intently as he was slowly working the web through the layers in place around the guy's hand without damaging them.  
  
Once everything was in place, he held onto the web, pulling at it just enough that the dude wouldn't be able to flex his hand.  
  
"Alright. This should do it. You can get her out."  
  
"Should do it?" Black Widow shot another look at Stark, clearly questioning the wisdom of entrusting Peter with this task.  
  
"It'll be fine. Just free her and then we can get the vial." Her hostility was getting on Peter's nerves. He'd done nothing but help people for months. Why was she insisting on thinking the worst of him?!  
  
While the plan working didn't necessarily surprise him, it sure filled him with relief. Mr. Stark used a blade from his suit to cut the girl free, who was escorted off to the waiting EMT by the Widow.  
  
Peter and Stark were in the middle of freeing the vial when she was back, ordering Peter to stay away.  
  
"Chill, Nat."  
  
"We don't need him this close by." She turned to Peter again. "I said, you stay back!"  
  
"Fine, fine. I'm not even..." Peter huffed, retreating a few steps, his grip still firm on the web securing the guy's hand. He tried to suppress his frustration when he heard the Widow speak again. Her voice low, in a whisper, and surely not suppose to reach his ears, but thank you, Spidey-senses, he could hear her just fine.  
  
"When we got this sorted, you need to bring the Spider-dude in! Steve will want to debrief him. It'll earn you a few points if you help him out with this, without being prompted by them."  
  
Peter's eyes shot over to Stark who didn't seem to show a reaction at all.  
  
"Tony!"  
  
"I heard you. Little busy here." Stark's teeth were clenched.  
  
Peter wasn't sure if that stemmed from sheer concentration on the job at hand or came in response to her. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but gulp at the prospect of being brought in by Iron Man. They had a deal, that Stark owed him. A deal that Peter had technically never asked for but that sure would come in handy right about now. It wasn't all that clear though if Stark would follow through on that when it was his own team asking for Peter's head on a platter. The only sensible thing was to get out of there as soon as possible.   
  
The second Peter saw the vial safe in Stark's hands, he shot a web at the building behind himself, dropped the web he was still holding and lunged himself off the ground. He could hear the Widow call after him, while he was climbing the building, trying to think of the optimal escape route. He couldn't really head off to Queens right now, risking the Avengers tailing him.  
  
His mind was focused on his possible escape route when he had climbed about halfway up the building and was suddenly stopped by a kite? A miniature glider? Something hovering right in front of him, that enabled a kind of scanner? Peter reacted instinctively and webbed up the kite, which dropped to the ground immediately. He had just launched into a swing to make his way down the street towards the river when the Falcon crashed into him in midair, leaving him squashed between the wall of the building and the Avenger. Peter struggled to free his arm, to pull himself out from under the Falcon.  
  
"Don't you put your hands on my stuff!"  
  
"Technically, my hands weren't on it." Peter pushed him off, freeing his arms, and set off swinging further along the building, trying to escape the situation. He shot a web at one of the buildings on the other side of the street. Heading south to take a detour through Brooklyn seemed to be the safest option with the Falcon on his heels. Mid-swing he felt his web snap, leaving him falling in the middle of the street. His quick reflexes saved him just in time and he managed to catch himself before crashing to the ground. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Stark and Black Widow hadn't moved and the Falcon was still hovering above him.  
  
"There's nowhere to run, Spider. Better safe us all the headache and just come quietly!"  
  
"That doesn't really work for me. Maybe another day..." he shot a series of webs towards the Falcon, more as a distraction to give himself some cover to run. He kept walking backward, still firing webs at him. Staying closer to the ground would give the guy less of an advantage over Peter. He was too vulnerable climbing up high with the Avenger being able to fly. So Peter turned and ran around the street corner squarely smashing into what felt like a brick wall but turned out to be another Avenger.  
  
"Not so fast, Spider."  
  
"Sorry, Captain. Fast is the only speed I know." He shackled Captain America's hands, turning in time to shoot another web towards the Falcon and then sprinted down 3rd Avenue. With a low swing, he brought himself to the other side of the street, ducking into the next street. He was faster swinging through the streets than running and Manhattan's street canyons were optimal for that. He never hovered more than a few feet over the ground, only swinging higher if there were cars or other obstacles he needed to avoid. He could still feel the Falcon following behind him.  
  
 _Think, Peter. How do you lose a bird? How do you lose a bird?_  
  
He shot a glance behind him. He had a bit of a head start, but the Bird-Guy was only a few seconds behind him.  
  
 _Let's just find an open door. He can't follow into a building if I close the door in his face! And then... then... I guess, creep out somewhere?_ He swung around another corner. _Pick the wrong building and you might be trapped..._  
  
Peter's heart was racing, not from physical exhaustion but from nerves. He could hear it beating in his ears. He was scared to be caught. Scared of them finding out who he was. For a second his thoughts lingered on the prospect of being interrogated by Captain America and the Falcon and he could feel his body starting to shake and his eyes stinging with tears. Fear. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand. _Focus, Peter!_  
  
"They're not gonna catch you. They're not gonna catch you." He kept repeating it quietly while cutting around corners, crossing over the traffic on the streets and willing his mind to focus on finding a way out of this. He shot another glace behind him.  
  
 _The wings are huge. He can only really glide through wider streets._  
  
At this point, Peter had no idea where he was. The only thing that mattered was finding a narrow alleyway. A small gap between two buildings. Something, anything he could slip through where the Bird-Guy couldn't follow. He had swung around two more corners till he spotted a narrow gap between two buildings. He made a beeline for it, fitting through the narrow gap comfortably. He hurried down the path, then started climbing the wall and halting in the middle of it, pressing himself against a window, his feet resting on the sill. His eyes darted back and forth between the front and the back of the building as well as the top. The Bird-Guy - that's what Peter would be calling him from now on, that name scaring him a lot less than "The Falcon" - would try to approach him somehow.  
  
Sure enough, Peter could sense movement on the top of the building. It was getting darker but he had no illusions. The Bird-Guy was bound to have some form of technology - probably Stark-tech - that would allow him to see Peter even in pitch darkness.  
  
"What's up, Spider? Getting tired? Need a little rest"  
  
Peter tried to slow down his breathing, but he knew very well, that it wasn't physical exhaustion that made his heart beat this fast and his breath come out fast and shallow.  
  
 _Think, Peter! Now what?_  
  
"I mean sure, we can just wait here for backup to show up and drag you out of there. Or you can make it easier on yourself and just come in nice and quietly."  
  
Bird-Guy mentioned backup because he was trying to make him run again, hoping to grab him once he came out of the ally. Peter knew that much. But the possibility of backup Avengers was not to be taken lightly. Peter had to lure him down to him somehow. The narrow ally would be an advantage for him over the Bird-Guy.  
  
"What are you hassling on me for? Shouldn't you been looking for the terrorist henchman?"  
  
"I have my orders and right now that means bringing you in!"  
  
"Well, if you're gonna be doing as good a job on me as you have on the bad guys, I guess I don't need to be worried!"  
  
Silence from above him told Peter that he'd hit a nerve.  
  
"Seriously, two of you couldn't keep track of one guy running away on foot?"  
  
"I was gonna be nice about bringing you in, Spider. There is a less gentle version of this if you want to push it!"  
  
Peter's pulse quickened some more. _This is insane. You are so dead._  
  
"Gentle? You took a shot at me!"  
  
"At your sticky stuff. Believe me, you'd feel the difference if I had been aiming at you."  
  
"Is that what you told the terrorist before you lost him?"  
  
Peter could see the Bird-Guy lean over the edge of the building above him.  
  
"You really are pissing me off now. Last chance to come quietly or I'll come and get you myself!"  
  
Peter stayed quiet, hoping this really had been enough to provoke the Bird-Dude into close combat. In the narrow gap between these two buildings, Peter's strength and agility would be a massive advantage.  
  
Only a few moments later the Bird-Dude actually shot down into the narrow gap. The window Peter was standing in would have shielded him at least partially from the attack, but all he really needed was a clear shot at the dude. As he sailed down towards Peter, a web Peter aimed for him caught him, enclosing him like a sack of flour and with a second web Peter glued the bundle to the side of the wall.  
  
"Thanks for that, Bird-Dude. You mentioned your Avenger buddies are coming, so I'm sure they'll pick you off the wall in no time."  
  
"Sooner or later, I'll get you, you little freak!"  
  
Peter's face fell a little, disappointed by the cheap shot, but his adrenaline urged him on and he skipped out of the narrow alley, his escape from the possibly following Avengers in mind.  
He'd been hiding on a lower level fire escape a few blocks away from where he'd left the Bird-Dude for about an hour and a half now. His body felt stiff and frozen but his heart still hadn't slowed all the way down yet. He was still terrified to check if the coast was clear. The Avengers were working with tech he couldn't even dream up. They were bound to find him. It was only a matter of time. As soon as he moved some kind of motion sensor would probably be alerted. His Spidey-senses still kept flaring up and he was sure they were still looking for him.  
  
  
Every time his thoughts went down that path his heart rate quickened again and he tried to think of Delmar's sandwiches and his warm comfy bedroom to calm his nerves. It took another 20 minutes for his need to get home to overtake his anxiety and he slowly climbed down into the alleyway. He wasn't sure where exactly he was. He had to find a street sign or at least a clear view of one of Manhattan's famous landmarks, that would give him an indication of where he was and in which direction he needed to head. He was determined to stay close to the ground even contemplating climbing into the subway tunnels and crawling along the ceiling to get back to Queens when he turned a corner and ran into something. Or rather someone.   
  
For a second he had a flashback to his earlier bump in with Captain America, but this guy was a lot softer and went right to the ground as Peter ran into him.  
  
"Oh gosh, sorry, dude! My bad, I didn't mean to -"  
  
Hands grabbed him by the shoulders and the surprising turn of events made him freeze up just enough that they managed to push him down to the ground. He rolled himself over meaning to web up his attackers when he felt a couple of steel cap boots make contact with his ribs. Someone grabbed his feet and dragged him across the ground towards a door while someone else was trying to restrain his arms with more kicks being aimed at his torso and head. Pain and shock made him freeze up and it was that moment when he realized that it wasn't the threat of looming Avengers that had driven his senses up the wall. He tried to shut up his brain that was scolding him for his foolishness willing his Spidey-senses to take control and help him to get out of this mess.  
  
He became more conscious of his surroundings, sensing 6 guys at a minimum. He kicked off two of them holding his legs first and then struggled to get control of his arms. By the time he had thrown off the guy holding his right arm, more hands were grabbing his legs and yanked him across the concrete. He managed to shoot a web at the guy holding his second arm but the pull on his legs made him lose control of his upper body and he couldn't react in time to keep his head from slamming into the ground. He groaned and kicked, wildly firing at his attackers but his webs wouldn't come. His head was throbbing and he wound himself from side to side to shake off the attack, while he was still trying to make his web shooters work until he realized that the right had run out of fluid and the left was almost empty as well. More kicks hit his chest but he managed to get himself back to his feet and punch the lights out of the two who had been holding him by his arms.  
  
Just as he was about to turn to face the rest, his Spidey-senses flared up in alarm urging him into evasive action. Mid-turn he sidestepped to the right but not enough to avoid the knife aimed at his abdomen. A sharp pain ran through him as it struck his left side, but this time his body didn't freeze at all. A quick succession of kicks and punches had the guy drop the knife though not before Peter felt him leave a few additional cuts on his arms. Three down, three more to go but he knew he was in trouble. He took a second to reach for his side and the amount of blood his hand was covered in from touching his wound made him light-headed. Without another thought, he stepped back from his attackers towards the wall of the building and started climbing.  
  
He reached the top of the building collapsing onto his back. Instinctively his hand went back onto the wound on his side trying to stop the bleeding. With every deep breath he took, blood was oozing past his fingers. The pain started to seep through his entire body.  
  
He cast his eyes up to the Manhattan night sky, pure despair weighing him down, his body transfixed with pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming on the weekend.


	9. The One After The Mission in Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has to sit through a tiresome debrief after the mission in Manhattan. The night doesn't end there.

Wilson slammed his fist on the conference table in frustration.  
  
"What the fuck were you thinking, Stark?"  
  
"I was thinking that I'm not going to leave a terrorist alone in the middle of a Manhattan street to chase after the guy who'd just helped us out while I'm still holding an undefined biochemical weapon in my hand. What the fuck were you thinking?"  
  
"Following the team leader's orders?! We don't know the dude! He has powers we need to know about!"  
  
"Really? You're going with that? Sounds a bit like something Ross would say..." Tony shot a glance over to Natasha who had been quietly observing them during the entirety of the debrief.  
  
"Tony, we need to know, who this guy is!" Rogers looked up at Tony, his chin was still resting on his hand. He was giving Tony one of those _'I'm not angry, I'm disappointed'_ \- looks, that Tony sometimes suspected were his real superpower.  
  
"There's plenty of time to find out who he is. That was not the time or the place! Taking care of the city is always the number one priority, not chasing after our allies!"  
  
"He's not our ally!" Rogers was still looking at him like he was 5 years old.  
  
"He sure was helpful today!"  
  
"He butted in while we were trying to thwart a biochemical terror attack, Tony!"  
  
Throwing up his hands at Rogers remark, Tony groaned in frustration. "Please. They had us pushed into a corner. Any further escalation might have resulted in civilian casualties. He did us a favor."  
  
"We don't know, what his motivation is!"  
  
"Come on, Rogers. You're just pissed that he caught us one of the assholes while the one you were chasing gave you the slip!" Rogers' eyes narrowed as Tony crossed his arms, leaning back. "Or is it more about the Spiderling giving you the slip as well?"  
  
Tony couldn't suppress a smirk and an eye-roll at Rogers offended expression.  
  
"Fuck you, Stark! What's the matter with you! How are you defending this guy over your team? You're supposed to have our backs!" Wilson had gotten up out of his chair, pointing a finger at him.  
  
"I am having your backs! I'm letting you know, that you're being douche bags, who need to get their heads out of their asses to realizes the big picture here!" He tilted his head at Wilson, still leaning back in his chair. "It's what friends do. Letting you know, when you're being a jackass."  
  
"Well, the jackass department would be your area of expertise, Stark!" Wilson turned to head for the door of the conference room.  
  
"Sam, sit!" Natasha shot a silencing glace over to a snickering Wanda then looked back and forth between him and Wilson. "Are we done with the pissing match? Get your ass back in that chair, Sam." She turned to Tony. "The Spider-dude is a liability. We don't know anything about him and that needs to change. He doesn't seem to know all that much about what he's doing himself and that is a problem, too. But Tony is right." She turned to Rogers. "He helped. We might have been in real trouble, if he hadn't shown up. That is the part we should actually be focusing on! We only came out on top because we were lucky today and had help that we didn't arranged for. That can't happen again!"  
  
Wilson scowled at her. "Wanda and Vision were just about to back us up. We'd have been fine!"  
  
She turned back to him. "Speculating what could have been is useless right now. Tony is right, catching the Spider was not a priority. Bringing him in by force is not in our best interest. Focusing on the threat at hand was important." She turned to look at Rogers again. "Catching the terrorists was the mission."  
  
"We don't know if he was in on it with them! How did he even know about what was going on? It's suspicious."  
  
"Steve, I think the fact that he helped to keep them from setting off their substance speaks for itself."  
  
Tense silence settled between them until Natasha spoke up again. "We should have cut off their escape route back to the bridge right away. The strategy was flawed." Her glance rested on Rogers. "We will learn from this. We will do better as a team in the future." She leaned back, her eyes still on Rogers. "We do have three of them in custody. That's three new sources of information. We'll learn. We'll be better."  
  
Rogers nodded. "Fine."  
  
"Tony!" His eyes shot over to her. "What do you know about the Spider-dude?"  
  
He mulled over his interactions with the Spiderling for a moment. "I've seen him twice after his run-in with Potts. I thought... I thought it was suspicious..." Rogers looked up at him in surprise, but Tony just shrugged. "Him turning up just as she needed help. It seemed a little too convenient. So first I had Friday check him out. Everything she could, videos, mentions of his abilities, similar instances to Potts' situation. Everything I found was mostly on petty crime, pickpockets, car thieves, those kind of things. All Queens-based with a pretty obvious routine." Tony cleared his throat. "I just wanted to be sure, that Pepper was not a target, so I made the trip over to Queens, checking him out in person. He stopped a burglary in process, wrapped two burglars up in his, well, web stuff. Then we had a short chat. It seemed like he genuinely didn't know that it was Potts he'd helped out that afternoon. I don't think he was lying. That was that." He drummed his fingers on the table, looking up at Natasha.  
  
"So, today was the second time you've come across him?"  
  
He held her stare. "Second time would have been the next day, when he showed up at the tower, making me jump out of my skin." He flashed her a smile.  
  
"He came up to the tower?" The alarm in Rogers' voice was easily detectable. "What did he want?"  
  
Tony kept his eyes on Natasha for a moment longer before turning to look at Rogers, fighting the urge to bite his lip. "Nothing." He shrugged. "Payback for me showing up on his rooftop, I assume."  
  
Rogers shook his head, but Wilson beat him to the punch. "And you seriously bought that?"  
  
"Enlighten me, Wilson. What do you think his master plan is?"  
  
"You need to take this seriously, Tony!" Rogers' eyes were trying to stare him down.  
  
"He's just a young guy trying to show off." Tony could tell by the facial expressions around him, that the others had their doubts about that. "Fine. What do you want me to do about it?"  
  
Rogers was still staring at him from across the table. "You can't keep this kind of information from us, Tony!"  
  
"I'm not purposefully keeping any information from you! Up until he showed up today, all of what I just told you was irrelevant chatter. I'm not going to start writing a diary so you can browse through everything I do, Rogers."  
  
"Tony..." His head shot back over to Natasha. "Is there anything else?"  
  
He shook his head. "No."  
  
Natasha was still looking at him, her spy instincts obviously picking up on something he wasn't saying, but there was no way he was going to fill them in on the little detail that he'd been boozed up a little too much when he had sought out the Spiderling that first night. Not even Nat would let that kind of recklessness slide. He was sure that his display that night was what had opened up the door for the Spiderling to have the guts to crawl up to his penthouse. A ballsy move that Tony still kind of admired. Sure, the dude had some weird powers and an upper body strength that most man would kill for... _But I'm still Iron Man._  
  
"Alright then. We need you to go and get him for us."  
  
"Come on, Nat..."  
  
Rogers jumped at that. "This is not up for discussion, Tony! We can't have a young man jump around the city like that unchecked and unwilling to cooperate!"  
  
Tony shook his head in frustration. "You guys are playing this all wrong. He has some weird powers, that could help us out down the road and we need all the help that we can get. Bringing him in like one of those terrorists and interrogating him is not gonna earn us any trust!"  
  
"It's not his trust I'm worried about!" Rogers disapproval of Tony's non-compliance was palpable. "Where do you think his weird powers came from? Did he experiment on himself or did someone make him into the weapon he is? We cannot sit back on this! Someone with an agenda is behind this and we need to be prepared! If he turns out to be an ally, we will get to it, when we get to it. But this is not the time for that! We can't throw our trust at someone like that!"  
  
Tony shot a glance over at Nat, but he could tell that he was outnumbered on this. His eyes dropped to the table in front of him. "Fine. I'll see what I can do."

***

Tony had his back against his desk. A number of graphs and calculation sheets were projected in front of him in the middle of the lab. His head bend, eyes closed, he was deep in thought trying to distract himself from the day's events and the confrontation with his team that had followed. Work was always a great distraction and he was willing his mind to focus on figuring out the calibrations of the new minimalist gadgets he had designed to be kept on his person for emergency situations. Ever since fighting Aldrich Killian he had been trying to implement a trimmed down version of the suit that he could keep on himself at all times, that would give him a chance to fight until the full suit could arrive if called for.  
  
**_"Boss, someone's knocking on the window."_**  
  
Tony's head shot up and listened intently until his face turned into a confused frown. "FRI, you drunk? The lab doesn't have windows."  
  
**_"Someone is knocking on the living room window of Stark Tower."_**  
  
He turned his head up to the ceiling glaring at her. "Has someone been messing with your sensors?"  
  
**_"Negative, Boss. Security scans were executed as scheduled and returned no suspicious results."_**  
  
"Just to be clear. You're telling me that someone is knocking on the living room window of my penthouse on the 68th floor of the Tower?"  
  
_**"Correct, Boss."**_  
  
He tried one last time, "From the outside?"  
  
_**"Yes, Sir."**_  
  
With a sigh, he stood up straight. "Well, pull up the security cam feed of the balcony then, I swear if this turns out to be window clea-"  
  
He stopped. His calculations had disappeared and the projection that FRIDAY had pulled up in its place in the middle of his lab showed three different angles of the balcony and living room glass front of his penthouse. With the night lights of Manhattan reflecting in the windows he could make out a person, who's torso was leaning against the glass, legs spread out on the floor.  
  
"Zoom in cam 5B and turn on the lights, FRIDAY." With the exterior floodlights and the indoor living room lighting turned up, Tony recognized Spider-Man right away. He was holding his side and there was an ominous dark spot forming beneath him. His body had jerked slightly as the bright lights illuminated the balcony, but there was not much movement coming from him now.  
  
"Urgh, shit..." Tony muttered. "FRI, turn on the audio feed and ask him what the hell he thinks he'd doing up there."  
  
His speakers were blaring with white noise from the high winds outside the building. Tony could make out FRIDAY's question quite clearly though.  
  
_**"Good evening, Spider-Man. Mr. Stark would like to inquire about the reason for your visit tonight."**_  
  
Tony was studying the feed for any sign of movement from the man on the floor. He had jerked in surprise as FRIDAY's voice started echoing across the balcony. To her question, he just lightly lifted his hand letting a fresh stream of blood run down his side. As he placed his hand back on the wound, Tony called for the suit.  
  
"Tell him, I'm on my way over. 7 Minutes." His thrusters started immediately, the suit guiding itself out of the narrow emergency shaft he'd put in the lab. "Might make it in 6."  
  
En route flying down from upstate New York along the Hudson, Tony had instructed FRIDAY to dim the headlights on the balcony. Still, the platform he had designed for easy Iron Man access was sufficiently illuminated to make an easy landing. The suit retracted right as his feet touched the floor. He took a few hurried steps over to the slumped down figure, who had by now slid to his side, his right shoulder touching the balcony floor, while the right arm was still snaked around his abdomen.  
  
"Spiderling..." keeping his voice casual "How nice of you to drop by. Didn't I ask you to use the front door?"  
  
Tony crouched down beside him, his hand hovering over the spot on his left side that Spider-Man still had his right hand pressed on. Up close he could clearly see that the suit was ripped in multiple places and his face mask had abrasions with patches soaked in dark blood that looked like the side of his head had been dragged across the street. He didn't make any attempt of getting up when Tony had arrived and Tony wondered if he would even be able to stand on his own.  
  
"Do you think you can stand?"  
  
A short shake of the head was the Spiderling's first acknowledgment of Tony's presence on the balcony.  
  
"I'm gonna go ahead and assume that if you wanted a hospital, you'd have knocked on their window and wouldn't have climbed all the way up to the 68th floor of my building."  
  
"No...no hospital..." His voice gave Tony chills. He sounded small and weak, very much like he had reached the limit of what he was able to stand.  
  
Tony let out a long breath. "Yeah, alright. I'll... Let's get you inside. FRIDAY, doors." He tried to figure out how he should try and lift him up.  
  
"Okay...okay, I will..." his hands still hovering over the beaten body "I'll try to lift you from your right. This will probably hurt..."  
  
Tony's arm came around the man's right shoulder, bracing him, trying to heave him up.  
  
A soft whimper made Tony freeze in surprise. "Sorry, buddy..." he muttered glancing over to the masked face as he quickly released the pressure on the shoulder. "Erm, well... how about we get you popped up against the window first, so I can have a look at your side."  
  
Tony moved his hand away from the shoulder to the right side of the Spiderling's torso, where he noticed the constant quiver of his body. Pushing through it and trying to ignore another small whimper, Tony slowly pushed him up into a sitting position.  
  
"Here we go, you're good...Just stay like this, try not to fall over."  
  
Tony stood up quickly. Becoming an Avenger meant having a firm idea where the first aid kits were stored in any of his facilities, so he was back at Spider-Man's side right away.  
  
"Okay, just a fair warning: none of my PhDs are in medicine." He moved the Spiderling's hand off the wound and pressed a wound dressing firmly onto it and securing it in place by wrapping a bandage tightly around his abdomen. "I have picked up a few things along the way though. I understand that you're in pain, but I will need to move you out of this wind and look at these wounds of yours." Tony moved to his side, slinging Spider-Man's right arm around his own shoulder. "Okay, I'll count to three then I'll pull you up. Try to get your legs underneath yourself and we will take it from there." After a sharp nod from the man, Tony counted to three and lifted him up, a little surprised how light he was having witnessed Spider-Man's strength in action. "Careful now. I gotcha..."  
  
Inside Tony maneuvered him onto the living room table.  
  
"Alright. Let's see what we are dealing with. FRIDAY, a little more light."  
  
**_"Certainly, Boss."_**  
  
Spider-Man jerked at FRIDAY's response trying to push himself up on the table. Tony had a firm hand on his shoulder but even with the Spiderling being in the sorry state he was, Tony was clearly outmatch in strength. "Ooookay buddy, calm down. It's just my AI. Nothing to worry about. You're alright." Tony took hold of his right arm, trying to steady him as the sudden rise had left Spider-Man swaying. "Alright. You're alright." he kept muttering. Having helped him to lie back down on the table, Tony went to grab the first aid kit.  
  
_Focus now. That abdominal wound first. We'll figure out what we can do about that. Probably needs stitches. If it needs more than a few stitches, well... we'll deal with that when we get to it._  
  
Tony cut the bandages, removed the wound dressing and replaced it with a fresh one, pressing it firmly into the wound to soak up the blood still oozing out of it and to compress the blood vessels. Spider-Man tried to move away, shivering with pain.  
  
"I need you to lie still for a moment, so I can look at it."  
  
After a couple of small nods from the Spiderling, Tony increased the pressure on the wound again, hen quickly took off the dressing. The compression gave him a moment to look at the wound without it being covered with blood. A couple of seconds later a new stream was rushing down Spider-Man's side and Tony pressed a fresh wound dressing firmly onto it.  
  
He muttered as low "sorry" as Spider-Man took in a sharp breath and tried to remove the pressure again by trying to turn his body away from Tony's hand. "I will get you some Ibuprofen is a minute. They do take a bit to kick in but I don't have anything better around." He looked up at the masked face.  
  
"Someone knifed you." It wasn't really a question. Tony had assumed as much judging by the long and heavy bleeder and the wound was quite distinct and had confirmed his suspicion.  
  
A short nod came from the man on the table. Tony patted his arm with his other hand.  
  
"It's okay, I think this is something we'll be able to deal with. I should be able to stitch this up for you. It's quite deep, but from what I can tell there are no major vessels or organs around the area. We should be able to deal with this with a couple of stitches and a proper pressure bandaging.." Tony reapplied a bandage as he was talking. "I will get you some pain killers to take the edge off, unless... " He stopped looking back up into Spider-Man's masked face. "You're not allergic or something, right? Addicted to painkillers? Something I should worry about?"  
  
Spider-Man shook his head.  
  
"You sure?"  
  
He croaked "not an addict" and added "no allergies".  
  
"Good."  
  
Tony went to get some water and the Ibuprofen capsules. He put the glass on the table and handed him the capsules. Spider-Man lifted his mask just enough to swallow the painkillers and take a gulp of the water, then pulled his mask back into place immediately. Tony glanced up and down his body, taking in all the cuts and scrapes, all the places where the suit was torn.  
  
He shifted, hovering his hand over some of the worse cuts. "It'll be at least 20 minutes till the meds kick in. I'd rather not poke around that slash on your side any more before that." He bit his lip. "You're not going to like this, but you have quite a few cuts, that we will have to take care of in addition to that." Tony looked right at him. "Your face looks like someone dragged you all the way down Broadway by your feet. That mask will have to come off."  
  
Spider-Man shook his head pressing out a firm "No!"  
  
Tony narrowed his eyes. "There's still blood running down from those cuts on your face. It's honestly not a good look and battle scars are not as attractive as they seem in the movies, believe me. We have 20 minutes. Might as well get those taken care of."  
  
Another breathy "No!"  
  
Tony let out an impatient sniff. "You came here for help. And honestly, you are in desperate need of it. So let me!"  
  
Spider-Man kept shaking his head from one side to the other.  
  
"You don't want people to know who you are, fine. I'll keep my trap shut. I know what it's like to... well, actually no, I went and told a whole room full of reporters that I'm Iron Man. But I understand. You don't want the authorities or some weird agencies breathing down your neck and poking at your Spider-Web-Slinging-Super-Strength, trying to figure out where that weird web stuff is coming out of you exactly and not everyone has a multi-billion company to stand up to those vultures. I get that. Believe me, I do."  
  
Spider-Man listened to him intently, his hands pressed against the table steadying himself.  
  
"But obviously you were desperate enough to crawl all the way up here and ask for help. So let me help."  
  
Spider-Man's silence told him that he had hit a nerve. When he finally spoke, his voice was no more than a whisper.  
  
"You owe me... you said... you said, you owed me..."  
  
Tony's face hardened, but he nodded. "Yes. I said that. I owe you. And I'm prepared to stand by my word."  
  
"Nobody... nobody can know." His voice was shaking. He was clearly breathing heavily through his still persistent pain.  
  
"I understand."  
  
"You don't tell. Nobody... nobody-  
  
"Yes, fine. I won't tell anyone anything about you."  
  
"Swear it."  
  
"Come one, dude..."  
  
When Spider-Man stayed silent, just staring at him, Tony threw up his hands in surrender, rolling his eyes. "Fine. I swear."  
  
At that Spider-Man's body almost seemed to relax, making the shaking in his muscles only more pronounced. He gave a slight nod. "Okay." He lifted his hand up to his mask, but apparently, he doubted his decision right away. "I... I don't think I can..."  
  
"You have my word."  
  
Spider-Man's hand were still hovering over the edge of his mask. He gave a small nod and tucked at the fabric starting to lift it further off his face. Quite quickly he stopped, a sharp gasp escaping him. Tony reached for his hands to keep them in place. A closer look told him that the blood oozing out of the scrapes on his face had already started to clot on the wounds' edges and the fabric had gotten stuck to the scurf.  
  
"I'll get a cloth and some water. The mask seems to have started to clot to your wounds. We'll have to get the scab wet to loosen the clotted areas and free the fabric, otherwise removing the mask will rip your skin even deeper."  
  
Tony returned with some warm water and a wash cloth, carefully trying to separate the fabric from the wounds without causing too much pain. Spider-Man seemed to have surrendered to his predicament and endured the procedure silently.  
  
After a few minutes, the mask started to come free and Tony slowly lifted it off the man's face. Too focused on the wounds it took him a moment to take in that face in front of him. Those eyes staring right at him wide with uncertainty and fear. His mouth fell open and Tony just stood there, staring at the face of a boy.  
  
Tony cleared his throat, but his voice wouldn't come. He took in the youth of that face for a couple more seconds but he'd already made up his mind.  
  
"FRIDAY. Ambulance. Now!"  
  
The boy's eyes widened even more in surprise and Tony wasn't sure how that was even physically possible. "No..." he croaked and tried to lift himself off the table.  
  
By reflex, Tony tried to hold the kid down, but it was useless. He was only human after all and that kid had some serious super-human strength in him, bashed up and bruised as he was.  
  
"You, stay down!" Tony exclaimed through gritted teeth, but he took a step back, still staring at that ridiculously juvenile face.  
  
_**"ETA 7 minutes, Boss."**_  
  
The Spiderling jerked back, his glace going up to the ceiling to where the AIs voice was coming from, then back to Tony. "Don't...don't do this."  
  
Tony kept his face emotionless.  
  
"Please... Mr. Stark... Sir, you promised..." the boy was clearly trying his best to hold back tears "You owe me. You... you said it. You owe me." With every word, the boy's breathing grew heavier.  
  
Tony kept his eyes firmly on the boy, willing his face not to twitch. "I make those kinds of deals with grown-ups." Tony spit. "I'm not making deals with kids!"  
  
"For... Miss Potts. You said you own me. For her. You..." His eyes were boring into Tony, pleading. "You gave me your word."  
  
"No..." Tony murmured. "I can't..." and finding his voice he added "You're just a boy! What the fuck were you thinking putting yourself in this kind of a mess!"  
  
"Please, Sir..."  
  
Panic was rising within Tony or rather had risen to a point where he was close to drifting into an actual panic attack. He had to turn away from the kid, hands over his head in frustration.  
  
_This cannot be happening!_  
  
"They'll take me away from.... from my family." The boy was unable to hold back his tears any longer. "If they take me, I... I'm never going home. You... you gave me your word."  
  
Tony shot him a glace. This wasn't fair. He'd had no idea to what kind of madness he was agreeing to. He can't let a boy walk around New York City jumping off buildings, taking down robbers and muggers and getting stabbed and whatnot in the process! A boy that was lying on his living room table with a slashed up abdomen, blood seeping through the bandage he'd applied, pain pouring out of his every pore.  
  
"I'm sorry, kid."  
  
The boy's eyes stayed on Tony for another second. Taking in what he was saying. Then darting over to the window and the balcony door.  
  
"Oh hell no! FRI-" He had to duck as a spider web was flung in his direction. His reflexes would have been useless but the Spiderling's aim was definitely off. "Stop!"  
  
The kid pushed himself up, reaching for his mask, but coming up short and letting out a pained gasp as the movement stretched his wounds. He was frantic, sending another web towards Tony, who just ducked and let it fly over his head while crawling closer to where Tony had put down the face mask.  
  
"I said, STOP!" The boy froze now being confronted with Tony's voice filtered by the Iron Man suit. He had summoned it, planting himself between the door and the boy. Tony stared at the Spiderling, crouched on his living room table, tears rolling down his face, terror in his eyes.  
  
"FRIDAY, door. And call off the EMT."  
  
The boy gave a small sob as the balcony door swung shut behind Tony.  
  
**_"The paramedics have been informed that their assistance is no longer required."_**  
  
"Fine," Tony threw up his hand in a defensive manner and lifted his faceplate. "No more web shooting and escape attempts. I'll stitch up that wound of yours and we'll talk."  
  
The boy quickly nodded, his face still wet and full of fear.  
  
With a deep breath on Tony's part as the kid muttered a quiet "Okay." he let the suit retract itself.  
  
"You better have one hell of an explanation for this."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys. Let me know, what you think.  
> Next Chapter probably next weekend, might come early if it will be as rainy here as predicted ;)


	10. Just Take a Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries his best to help, Peter realizes the reality of the situation he got himself into.

The room was mostly quiet. Thankfully. There were only two settings Tony liked to work with. Music blasting or dead silence. He was bent over one of his workbench drawers and rummaged around the content. He was looking for a particular set of tiny screwdrivers to dismantle Dum-E's control unit since the idiot had managed to spill water all over himself when he tried to refill the tank of the coffee maker. Something had shorted and Tony had narrowed the faulty wire down to a particular control unit that he probably hadn't touched since college.

"I know they're here somewhere..." He closed his eyes and tried to picture where he had seen those damn screwdrivers last. Had definitely used them when he had added those cooling pads to-

_**"Sir-"** _

"Shoosh, not now!" His face was resting in his hands and he felt like he was almost there, almost had the image called up in his mind of where he'd seen them last. If not that drawer, they must be-

_**"Sir, the little master is restless."** _

Tony stood straight at once, his eyes darted to the monitor he had installed at the end of his workbench. And on the fridge. And also next to the workshop door. A quick blue pulsing light meant his son was restless in his bed. A quick glance at his watch told him it was 2:17 am. As he looked back up towards the monitor it turned orange. Distress.

"Thanks, JARVIS." He grabbed a towel from the workbench in front of him to roughly wipe off the worst of the dirt from his hands and hurried towards the door. He patted Dum-E in passing and mumbled a low "Sorry, buddy. I'll be back in a bit." and as he reached the stairs he took two at a time to get up from the basement to the second floor. In front of the door, he paused, took a couple of deep breaths to calm down his pulse and put an ear to the door, listened to what was happening inside.

There was some rustling and a soft whimper. This was no good. He’d need to work on a better monitoring system.

Slowly and quietly he pushed down the handle of the door. His son's room was dark, the curtains drawn close. Only a little moonlight was shining in through a gap between the window edge and the curtain, but it was enough for Tony to guide himself to the bed. As he kneeled down at the head of the bed, the boy's eyes were still closed but he was tossing about, murmuring and breathing heavily, hands shot up to cover his face.

Tony lightly placed a hand on his son's chest, his voice low and warm.

"It's alright, baby. You're alright."

He was still restless and as Tony's hand on his chest kept him from throwing himself from one side to the other, he was now tossing his head from side to side. Quickly Tony's other hand came up to first cup his face, then ran through his soft brown hair.

"Wake up, Addy. I'm right here. Come on, darling."

His thumb was caressing the boy's temple and Tony kept speaking to him, his voice still low, when Aiden's eyes flew open. He tried to focus on the ceiling above him then frantically moved his eyes around the room.

"It's alright, Addy. I'm here. I'm here."

At that, the boy looked right at him, still not really seeing him. His short high-pitched scream made Tony freeze just for a moment. The boy jerked away from him and started crying in earnest and while Tony’s heart jumped at the desperate sound he wouldn’t let it phase him. This wasn't the first time he was by his son's bedside in the middle of the night. Not the first time he had woken from a nightmare. According to the pediatrician, this was a normal way for toddlers to process all the new impressions the world made on them every day. They were quite frequent in 2 to 5 year-olds and Aiden being just a couple months shy of two years old might have been a bit ahead of the curve, but then so had Tony been. First circuit board at 4, first engine at 6. A Stark being ahead of the curve was the norm after all.

Or so he was determined to tell himself.

Just a nightmare. Nothing to freak out about.

Deep breaths to keep his heart rate even, to radiate calmness. His hand was resting on his son's chest and he continuously spoke to Aiden, softly whispered reassurances. It took another minute for the boy to come out of his panic and actually recognize Tony. Still crying, his little hands grabbed for his dad's arms and Tony lifted his son towards himself, held him close to his chest.

"It's alright, baby. You're alright." He hugged the boy in his arms as one of his hands rubbed slow circles onto his back.

Aiden's hands were tightly twisted into Tony's shirt, his face pressed against his father's chest. Tony concentrated on his boy's breathing, his own heartbeat in check. His chest was rising and falling and his son mimicked his rhythm and gradually recovered from the nightly scare. As his breathing grew less erratic and his tears ebbed off, Tony closed his eyes. Almost there. His technique still worked.

"There you go." His hand combed through the boy's locks and he craned his neck to see his son's face. The boy had his eyes closed. Maybe he could just get him to fall asleep again. Slowly he lifted him up, laid him back down onto the bed, but Aiden stiffened in his arms and clung even closer to him.

"No... Daddy... No..." The boy's voice only a whisper and still husky from crying. 

He hugged his son close to his chest and stood up just enough to maneuver himself onto the bed, Aiden still securely in his arms. The boy’s face remained nuzzled into his shirt.

"It's alright, darling. I'm here."

He ran his hand through his son's hair, coaxing him back to sleep.

"I'll be here."

***

Initially, the shock of the situation, as well as the adrenaline rushing through his body, had kept the worst of the pain at bay. Peter had been stranded on a rooftop, bleeding heavily and almost ready to embrace the pain that was paralyzing him. He’d pass out any moment. It was just too much, his consciousness was fading fast. His head fell back and then he saw the lights. His eyes had focused on Stark Tower that rose up only about a block away from him. The sight had filled him with purpose and sheer refusal to bleed out from such a dumb mistake had given him the strength to get up. To get help. To seek out someone, he could possibly trust. Who would understand. When he had reached the penthouse, knew that help was on the way, the level of adrenaline in his blood that had lent him strength quickly fell. Pain was now filling him up in its place. He had never felt pain like that before.

When his mask was lifted off his face, when he pleaded his case to Tony Stark, that pain was put out of his mind again with adrenaline charging through him once more. He still felt tense. He had sought out Iron Man in the hope of help. But really, what did he even know about the guy? What if he’d sell him out after all? But the truth was that Peter didn't have anywhere else to go. This was his best shot. Stark had helped him to lie back down on the table and was now treating the cuts on his face. Peter had his head turned to the side. That way Stark had better access to the left side of his face. His racing pulse made it hard for him to focus on what Stark was doing. Not that it mattered much. He just had to stay still, had to hold his emotions at bay. That was what he concentrated on. His eyes were cast down, unfocused. Neither of them had said much for the last few minutes, ever since Peter had settled back onto the table. The odd instruction on how and when to turn his face. But it was only a matter of time till Stark would put the pressure on him, Peter knew that much.

There was a particularly deep cut on his cheek and he really had no idea how he would even begin to explain that to May. But that was something he could figure out later. Right now he needed to find a way how he would get back home. If she found out that he was moonlighting as Spider-Man… no. Absolutely not, was not going to happen. No.

He'd known that taking the mask off in front of Stark was a risk and at the same time it was his only option. Stark was the only safe-ish haven his condition had allowed him to reach and with the man's reckless and authority-defying reputation Peter really had hoped for a little more leniency and understanding from him. But the initial reaction Stark had shown - initial freak-out might be more on point - made Peter less certain that he'd get out of this with his secret identity intact.

"How's the pain?"

Peter jerked slightly and immediately felt stupid. Stark had been right there all this time. He really had to get a grip. "It's... it's alright."

"Oh yeah? So, it's just the pleasure of my company that has you clinging to the edge of the table and trembling like a leaf?"

His eyes stung with tears again. Pain, frustration, embarrassment. He bit his lip and rapidly blinked his lashes to keep them from falling.

"You need to stop lying to me, kid. I can't help you if you keep lying. Look at me!"

His eyes darted up to meet Stark's. He did feel truly helpless and pathetic.

"Don't expect any help coming from me if you keep lying. Final warning."

"Yes, Sir."

"Then let me ask again: How's the pain?" Stark raised his eyebrows at him expectantly.

Peter swallowed hard, which in turn send a shiver through his body that caused another wave of pain to shoot through him. "Pretty much... the same."

Stark frowned and checked his watch. "It's been 20 minutes, maybe if we give it-"

"It's... unlikely to... to change... with the pills. I think... I think they aren't... strong enough for my meta... for my metabolism." Peter offered as an explanation.

Stark's eyes narrowed on him. "Because you're a child and children have a faster metabolism than adults?"

Peter closed his eyes in frustration before he slowly shook his head.

"How old are you?"

He looked back up at Stark and willed his face to be serious and strong. "I'm 15."

Stark stared at him, his lips a thin line. "What did I just say about your aversion to the truth and how you really, _really_ need to overcome it?!"

Peter clenched both his hand into fists. "I'm 15!"

"Yeah... you look like your Hogwarts letter is still in the mail!"

His fist banged down on the table and frustration made his tears overflow at last. "I'm not lying!"

"Fine." Stark's eyes were still fixed on him. "Let's pretend for now that's true. What happened?"

Peter cast his eyes back down to the floor, rubbing his hand across his face. He'd been stupid and didn't pay enough attention to where he was going is what happened.

"I had the Falcon on my tail and after shaking him off-"

"After gluing him to the side of a building, you mean?" Peter's eyes shot back up but Stark's expression hadn't changed. "I'm not talking about tonight. You say you have an increased metabolism. You're fast. You're strong. The super-human kind. That weird web stuff you're shooting around. You've been active for a few months at best. Maybe I'm reading you wrong and these ... powers are something you actively sought out, but you don't seem like the mad professor type, experimenting on yourself. So, something happened to you. Probably quite recently."

Peter bit his lip, hesitating for a moment. Here it was. Stark wanted some answers and Peter had not yet decided how much he was willing to disclose.

"Flashy internship. Something bit me. I got sick. Then, I got better."

"What bit you?"

That made him laugh. To his own surprise, a short dry chuckle and regret along with a sharp wave of pain shot through him.

"Three guesses..."

"Did you actually see the thing or are you jumping to the obvious conclusion?"

Peter shrugged. "Saw it. Shook it off. Smashed it... with my notes." He was breathing heavily through the pain, his head had fallen back onto the table, eyes trying to find a point at the ceiling to stare at. Maybe the exhaustion in combination with the pain just make him pass out after all. That was one way to keep some of his secrets.

"Any more where that one came from?"

"Don't know."

"Alright." Stark's gaze wandered back to his wound. "Alright. Well, I guess there's no reason for you to lie about the pills being useless with you." He shrugged. "Any medical equipment and drugs I have access to are at the Compound along with some rather pissed off Avengers."

Peter's pulse was hammering in his ears, his hold on the table stiffened again when he looked up to find that Stark was studying his face.

"They also have these kinds of things at the hospital."

"No... please, Mr. Stark..."

The man sighed. "What about your family? Do they know about your after-school activities?"

Peter managed to suppress another dry laugh to spare himself another wave of pain courtesy of his abdomen.

"No one knows."

Stark sighed again. "I'm not sure how you expect this to go. Let's say I stitch you up while you wiggle around from the pain of doing this without any anesthesia. Do you know how long a wound like that takes to heal? You'll have to monitor it, redress it, keep infection out."

"I heal fast."

"Oh yeah? I don't see your wound stitching itself up. This isn't just a scratch that will fade over night."

"I'll manage."

"You can't even keep yourself up on your own two feet! You think your parents won't notice?"

"I'll... I'll... think of something!"

"Of some more lies. Of course, you will. Why am I not surprised."

Peter grit his teeth. "I'm not... I don't lie to... I just..."

"Omit the truth. Sure. Trying semantics on me is not going to work."

"It's... I have to keep this to myself, okay?! She'd freak out if she knew and I can't..." Peter bit his tongue. He needed to shut the hell up. He already said too much.

"Your mother?"

He hesitated, then nodded.

"You're not great at that lying thing. Not even remotely as good as you seem to think you are."

Peter looked up at him. He felt his face heat up and tried his best to shake the embarrassment writing all over his face. He hadn't been lying though. May might not be his mother, not biologically, but she was the closest thing he had. The only mother he could remember. 

"Do those _'parents'"_ Stark's hands air-quoting the word "of your's just not give a shit about you to notice all your _'truth omitting'_ or are you better at this without all the blood loss. What are we dealing with here, deadbeat parents or half-dead Spider?"

Not deadbeat, only dead... Peter kept his eyes up on the ceiling, stared straight ahead, his teeth pressed together. Stark’s tactic was more then obvious. He was fishing for information and Peter was not going to give him the satisfaction. That trick would not get a rise out of him.

"Gotta say, that mask was a great idea. That face of yours is like glass. You really think I can't see you trying to come up with some more lies?"

Peter closed his eyes in frustration. Anger and despair pulsed through him stronger and stronger and he tried to push the feelings down.

"I shouldn't have... come here. I'll just... I'll just go."

He heard Stark snort. "Oh, yeah? Where exactly is it that you'll go and why didn't you go there before you came up here bleeding all over my penthouse?"

Peter's hands shot up and covered his face. How could he have been so careless? How had he screwed up this bad? He was in so much trouble. If May found out… What was he going to do? Hopelessness and fear slowly but surely leaked into every cell of his body. He couldn’t fall apart, not in front of Tony Stark. He tried to cling to the little dignity he had left but he was fighting a losing battle. Peter could feel his heart rate quicken, his breathing shallow and fast, but still it seemed not fast enough. He wasn't getting enough air. His body started to shiver uncontrollably while his mind lost the battle against his anxiety and was swept up with an all-consuming sense of hopelessness.

Peter's hands had wandered from his face down to his neck and chest as he was tried to breath. Panic triggered by the lack of oxygen was rising inside him. He jerked in surprise when he felt a hand settle on his arm. It was Stark who had stepped closer to the table. Peter's eyes shot over to him and he could tell that the man's lips were moving but his brain just wouldn't process whatever it was he said. All he could focus on was that pressure on his chest, a weight that seemed to crush his lungs, made it impossible to draw a breath. Then Stark yanked one of Peter's hand off his throat. He placed it squarely on his own chest right above his heart. Peter winced. He seemed to have lost control over his own limbs. His eyes were locked on his own hand that was pressed against Stark's chest. At first, his glance was simply transfixed by the visual of the slow rise and fall of the man's chest but gradually his other senses came back to him. He could feel the hold Stark had of his arm, the body heat radiating from his chest.

"Alright, kid. Take it easy now."

His eyes wandered upwards from his hand to Stark's face, stopped at his lips. He tried to grasp what Stark was saying.

"Just breath. You're alright."

Peter was panting, his lungs burned. "I... I can't... I can't..."

"Yes, you can. You just have to get out of your own head and focus."

Peter's glance shifted from Stark back to his own chest. The way his second hand was clawing on the damaged fabric of the suit seemed to be controlled by a foreign power and surely not by himself. He had no control over the rapid rise and fall of his chest either.

"Hey, Spiderling. Look at me!"

Stark jerked on the arm he was still holding and Peter pried his eyes away from his body to look up at the man standing next to him.

"It's alright. You're having an anxiety attack. You're safe here. You'll be fine."

Was he though? He had no control over what was going to happen with him. He was on his own. He-

"Hey!"

Peter's eyes shot back to Stark's face. He hadn't even realized that his glance had wandered up to the ceiling.

"I'm telling you, you will be alright. We'll figure this out."

Stark studied his face for a reaction.

"You can feel my pulse, right?"

Peter's gaze dropped down to his hand again. Stark was still holding it firmly pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady and once Peter had felt it, his ears picked up the beat as well.

"Yes." Peter nodded, not sure if his body actually did as he told it.

"Alright. That's good. Just focus on that one thing."

He could feel his own body mimicking the rhythm little by little. The hand on his chest unclench from the fabric of his suit little by little.

"There you go." 

As Peter's breathing evened out, he could feel the wetness on his face. Stark's hold of his arm had lifted considerably and with some hesitation, Peter pulled his hand back from the man's grip and tried to wipe the tears off his face.

Stark crossed his arms, studied him in silence while Peter tried to collect himself. He had had some nightmare's that he struggled with after Ben died, that would wake him and leave him panting and sweating in the middle of the night. But nothing like this. Never something as intense as what he just experienced.

"Thank you."

Peter's voice still shook and the words almost inaudible. He was mortified how he had just completely lost it. In front of Stark of all people.

"I don't know..." His voice shook. "I'm... I'm sorry... I don't-"

"Okay, let's not do that." Stark uncrossed his arms and held out his hands in a calming gesture. "We don't want you to spiral down again, alright? It's fine."

"I'm sorry-" Peter stopped and looked up at Stark who'd reached out to take hold of his arm again.

"Listen to me, kid." Stark face unblinking but not unkind. "You're not the first to have an anxiety attack in here, alright."

Peter swallowed hard, his voice hoarse and small.

"I don't know what to do." 

Stark patted his shoulder lightly.

"I'll get that suture kit and we'll stitch you back together. And then we'll take it from there."

Peter sniffed and cast his eyes down to his chest.

"Hey, kid!"

He looked back up at Stark.

"We'll figure it out, Spiderling."

Stark had turned, about to walk away.

"Peter."

The man stopped and turned enough to look at him, eyebrows raised.

"Excuse me?"

He cleared his throat.

"My name... is Peter. You never... you never asked."

Stark shrugged. "I figured you'd just lie."

Peter could feel his face heat up, but Stark just chuckled and turned away again to go and grab the suture kit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Sorry for the long wait. I've been traveling through New Zealand for the last couple of months and actually planned to write on rainy days, but turned out the weather was amazing almost all of the time ;)
> 
> I hope the wait was worth it. I'm back home now, so the next chapters will be published a little faster. Thank you for all the lovely comments! Totally get a kick out of them XD
> 
> P.S.  
> Also, happy Captain Marvel release week! I watched it yesterday and really liked it.


	11. This Might Sting a Little

Tony's hands were resting on the cold porcelain of his bathroom sink. His eyes cast down, unfocused, as he stared at the space somewhere between the faucet and the tiled wall. His mind was focused on his breathing, long deep breaths to push down the queasy feeling in his stomach. He reached for the tap, splashed some water on his face and rubbed his hands sharply across it. A creative amount of curse words fell out of his mouth, too low and muffled by his hands to even reach his own ears. He looked up and stared at his own reflection in the mirror.

_This was a horrible idea. He was no physician! Stitching up a wound on himself was one thing. This was insane. And reckless. Irresponsible._

_He groaned, “Did I mention insane?” He was in way over his head..._

The kid was right to be scared of a trip to the hospital though. If Tony would drag him there and they figured out that the boy was an enhanced... He had no idea if pointers to the kid's powers would pop up in some way when the hospital would test his blood type to give him a possible transfusion, which they were bound to do.

_Shit…_ _Should he test the kid's blood in case he needed a transfusion? In case Tony screwed this up royally?_

Well, he had no idea how to set up a blood transfusion anyway, so probably a no on that one. If he wasn't able to stop the bleeding by stitching up the wound...

_Fuck... Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_

His fists pounded the sink in frustration. He'd gotten next to nothing out of the boy. He needed parents' names, relatives, friends... just someone. Someone that could weigh the boy's current state and health risks versus the danger of him ending up in government custody. Anyone but him who could make this decision.

And it wasn't just the boy's safety that was at stake here. If the hospital would connect the dots, they'd inform the police, who would inform the government and Ross would have a field day with Tony’s involvement with a vigilante. He had been working hard enough as it was to keep the Avengers out of trouble with the officials, careful not to give them any ammunition they could use against his team. He could absolutely not be caught trying to smuggle the Spiderling past the authorities. But he couldn't give the boy up to them either. Not with Ross still in charge. He couldn't have that on his conscience. He wouldn't.

The Compound then. FRIDAY might be able to sneak them in. He'd have access to more supplies, medical staff, and antibiotics. But Tony wasn't entirely sure of the Compound staff's loyalty. Sure, he was the one paying their salaries, but when it came to social skills and unintelligent small talk, Rogers and especially Wilson had him beat. The blame for Ultron was still squarely put on Tony as well, which hadn't left him on the best terms with Helen Cho. Rogers surely would find some way to put the blame that Spider-Man turned out to be an under-aged kid on him somehow. Especially if that particular bit of information was snitched to him by the Compound staff.

Tony shifted on his feet and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t in control of this situation at all and he was not ok with that. Too much that he didn’t know about the boy. The rest of the team was pissed off already that they were outplayed that afternoon. That they almost messed it up. There was no telling on how much of the fault they'd pass of to the kid and then him by association. If anyone knew about being passed the blame for a fuck up it would be him. Chances were that kind of heat would break the kid.

Well, it followed that he would have to deal with those stitches on his own for now.

He stood up straight, slid the mirror to the side, which revealed a collection of bandages, medical tape, and disinfectants as well as his suture kit. After another deep sigh, he reached for the kit, gloves and for some of the other supplies that would come in handy. As he made his way back to the living room, the boy was still stretched out on the table where Tony had left him. He knelt down next to him, the supplies still firmly in his hands. The dressing he had applied to the boy's side was already soaked again. A small stream of blood had seeped through the bandage and was slowly flowing down his side and pooling beneath the kid on the table.

"Alright then."

The kid’s big frightened eyes were really not helpful at all. Tony laid out the supplies. He squeezed his hands into fists so they wouldn’t tremble.

_Just breath._ _He had done stitched before. He could do this. It'd be fine_ _._

When his voice felt steady enough he turned to the kid once more.

"You might want to look somewhere else while I'm doing this. Anticipating every stitch and seeing yourself bleed will only make this worse."

The boy nodded and whispered a soft "okay" before he turned his head away from him. Tony had laid out everything he needed. Needle. Sutures. Antiseptic solution. Additional dressings to soak up the blood and swab the wound. He reached for the bandage that was tightly wrapped around the boy's abdomen but stopped.

"Peter." Tony waited for the kid to look back up to him. He studied his battered face, his eyes glassy from pain and tears. "This is going to hurt. Are you sure that there's nobody I can call for you? Relatives? A friend? Someone to be here with you. You don't have to do this alone." For the short moment that the boy hesitated, Tony actually got his hopes up, but he shook his head, only bit his lip and turned his head to stare at something on the other side of the room.

"Just... just do it."

Tony cast his own eyes up to the ceiling for a moment. He’d never given much credence to religion, but he’d love some of that surety and support someone else might gain from sending out a prayer in this kind of a situation. There was nothing to be gained from questioning his decision at this point though. He was stuck with the risky path he'd been pushed on by the kid. He cut the bandage and parts of the onesie, carefully peeled off the dressing and the fabric around it. Blood was still seeping out of the cut. Not the fast rush that he had found when he had inspected the Spiderling's wound earlier that night though. There was still a considerable amount of blood, only thicker, flowing less urgently.

"Alright. There is quite a bit of clotting in your blood already." He pressed a new dressing onto the wound. "That's finally some good news. We might actually get away with this..."

The boy's hands were clinging to the edge of the table. He only gave a soft nod as a response.

"I will use some antiseptic solution to clean the cut. This might sting a little." He soaked one of the dressings but hesitated. He turned to look at the kid, who was still staring at the wall on the other side of the room.

"I'm sorry. That's a lie. This will hurt a lot. You can..." A deep sigh escaped him when the kid's eyes darted towards his. "It's fine to scream. It tends to help."

There was no point in dragging this out. The boy did scream. Tony tried to be fast about it, but he needed to be thorough. He couldn't risk any kind of contamination of the skin, any germs that the needle could possibly drag into the wound when he stitched it up. He'd not make the boy suffer through all this pain only to have him die from sepsis or blood poisoning within the week.

As much as the kid’s screams made his stomach turn, this would still be the easy part. Now that the wound was prepped, the margins of it gaping open, a slow stream of blood continuously flowing down the boy's side and the needle positioned, he could actually feel bile rise in his throat. It was ridiculous. He'd injured and killed people and aliens. He'd stitched up the odd cut on his own body, especially in his early Iron Man days. But this was different. The setting almost intimate. Yes, he was going to help the kid, but he'd also make him suffer the unfiltered agony of sewing together an already painfully screaming part of his body. Tony's hands shook. He had vastly underestimated what adrenaline and the shock of an injury did to his own body. Natural pain management that made him capable of handling this kind of stuff on himself. Piercing the ripped skin of someone else. Someone he was trying to help. A boy.

_Get a fucking grip._

He took a deep breath in an effort to ground himself when the boy's abdomen suddenly started to shake a little more than before. He gritted his teeth. The kid was sobbing and that was not helping him deal with his anxiety or the task at hand or really with any of this. Against his better judgment, his eyes shot up to the boy's face, only to realize that he was not sobbing at all. He was chuckling.

For a moment Tony thought that this turn of events had actually rendered him speechless. He narrowed his eyes at the boy and cleared his throat.

"Are you laughing?" 

The Spiderling was breathing heavily through the pain, that this obviously caused him.

"Sorry..." He took another breath, one of his hands came to rest on his stomach, pressed down on it in hopes of stopping the tremors.

"What the fuck..."

"Sorry... I just..." He took another deep breath. "I just had to think... about how my... my parents would totally... totally sue you... if you... argh..." he chuckled again, but his face contracted with the pain it caused him. "if you screw this... this up. And how... urgh." His hand pressed down on his stomach again. "How rich we'll... we'll be."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

The boy had turned his head to the ceiling, eyes closed. Tears ran steadily down his face.

"I'll... I'll totally buy... one of those... tacky... sports cars..."

Tony only shook his head in disbelieve. He'd seen many things in the past 8 years as Iron Man but this...

"You know, kid, you'd not be the first one trying to squeeze some money out of me."

"Ha..."

Tony could actually feel the corners of his mouth wanting to rise in response.

"If I had a dollar for every time someone tried to sue me for I'd... oh wait. I already am a billionaire. My bad."

The Spiderling laughed, but still held his stomach.

"Pete, take a breath. You need to stay still now."

The kid opened his eyes and looked right at him.

"Tell me... about the... the most... ridiculous one."

"The most ridiculous lawsuit?"

Peter nodded before he turned his gaze up to a spot on the ceiling.

"Goodness. There are so many. Honestly, I wouldn't even know about all of them. Most of the time they don't make it much further than my lawyer's office. Potts would sometimes pass along some of the crazier ones for entertainment purposes."

He wasn't sure how deliberate the boy's behavior was, or if it was a conscious decision on his part at all. Maybe the pain had made him delirious. Maybe he had just started talking to keep his mind off the needle that Tony had aimed at his abdomen. Either way Tony could see how the boy's body actually relaxed and he could feel that the tremors in his own hands became less pronounced.

"There was this one lady."

He brought the needle closer to the wound margin and pressed it through the boy's skin. Peter twitched underneath his hands, a deep gasp escaped him, but Tony kept his eyes firmly on the wound and kept up a steady flow of words. A distraction from this impossible situation they were both desperate for.

"That was really one of the first ones after I became Iron Man. I'd fought with... well... I had this fight with this guy who was trying to kill me in Downtown LA. At one point he used random cars as missiles trying to flatten me."

He managed to have the needle pierce the other side of the wound's margin, extracted it completely and tied a knot with the suture thread.

_That was number one._

"I'm not talking parked cars. He just picked them off the road as they were passing, people still in them, and threw them at me. That was... that was really early on. I hadn't even come out to the world as Iron Man at that point."

The needle pierced Peter's skin again. The boy moaned through gritted teeth.

"So, I caught one of the cars and it had this family inside." He tied the second knot. "I balance it, held it right above my head and then the lady just starts hitting the gas."

The third stitch made the Spiderling scream out.

"Obviously that made me fall over. And with them on top of me."

Tony keep up the story. He hadn’t even thought of that night in forever and wrecked his brain for as many details as he could remember from that fight. Save the identity of his opponent. That was one of the few secrets he had actually managed to keep quiet about over the years.

By the 11th stitch, the boy was sobbing heavily and Tony did have to stop. He put a dressing over the last part of the wound that still gaped open. The boy would need a minute to collect himself. His hand came to rest on the Spiderling's upper arm. There wasn’t much comfort from the pain he could give the boy.

"It's okay, kid. We're almost done. A couple more, then you made it."

The boy covered his face with his hands, shaking from silent sobs. Tony gave him a couple more minutes to calm down. An allusion of calm really. That wound was already agitated and it didn’t matter if they’d wait 5 minutes or 10, it would do neither of them any good at this point, but only draw out the inevitable.

"It's only three more stitches, then we're done."

The boy nodded. "Tell.. tell me... why..."

"Well, the stitches shouldn't be too far apart to keep the pressure even on the tissue around-"

"No." The boy took a deep breath. "Why... why they sued."

Tony frowned. He let out a deep breath and forced some calm and warmth into his voice. "Oh... Well." He got back into position to continue with the sutures. "The bottom of their car did not do too well when it was thrown into Iron Man."

He pierced the skin once more and the boy's whole abdomen shook from pain in reaction to it.

"So, after I couldn't keep my mouth shut and had to tell everyone about how I'm Iron Man, the car owner, of course, put two and two together and decided that I should pay for a new car, emotional distress, and some medical bills."

He tied another knot, his monologue a flimsy barrier between himself and the boy's whimpers.

"So, they dragged me to court. Well, not that I went myself."

He worked as fast as he dared. He needed this to be over with, preferably without screwing it up.

"I send my lawyers to the first hearing, armed with a recording of the fight from the suit's point of view."

He shook his head as he tied another knot. _Only one more to go._

"That family was lucky to be alive. And so was I."

The boy's abdomen was vibrating violently from his heavy breathing and the tremors of pain that shot through him.

"The last one, kid. We're almost there."

He let one of his hands rest on the boy's torso for another moment, waiting. Those shivers would have to ease off. The Spiderling had his face buried in his hands and was not even trying to hide his sobs anymore.

"Pete..."

Tony reached for his arm, but the kid didn't react. Maybe he should just skip the last stitch, give the boy a night of rest, maybe take another go at it in the morning. No… he couldn't risk an unevenly distributed pressure on the wound. The stitches were holding for now, but any inadvertent movement, another panic attack or even if he woke from a trauma infused nightmare could change that if the stitches were skimped. There was no way that Tony would risk them tearing the boy's flesh because he had been sloppy.

"Hey kid, look at me."

Tony tightened the grip on the boy's arm. Peter led his hands slowly fall, his face pale.

"You... you... done?"

He could only manage a whisper and Tony fought his own pulse that jumped right up again. But he would not let his own weakness make this potentially worse for the kid.

"One more. I need you to try and stay still."

The boy gasped for air, his cheeks wet with tears.

"It's just one more, but I can't do it like this. I don't want to hurt you."

The sound that escaped the boy could have been a sob as well as a laugh. This was ridiculous of course. Tony had done nothing but cause him pain for the past 20 minutes. He patted his shoulder encouragingly.

"Take a deep breath and just hold it. And then we're done."

The Spiderling nodded, breathed in deep as Tony turned back to the wound. It engaged the boy's muscles just enough to calm the tremor in his abdomen and allowed Tony to hit the right spot. As soon as the needle pierced the kid's skin he cried out again and all the air left his lungs with a scream.

"There we go."

Another wave of shivers ran through the Spiderling, but Tony had managed to place the suture well enough. His hand found the boys arm again, patted it once more. Tony directed him to hold his breath one more time, so he could tie the last knot. The boy lay panting and stared at the sutures. He only hissed when Tony used an antiseptic swab to clean the area once more before he covered it with a new wound dressing.

Tony felt light-headed, elated that this was over. He had no idea if it would be enough for the boy to heal. The thought that it wouldn’t be left his hands wet with nervous sweat. He used the bandages to roughly clean the boy's blood off the table, discarded the used supplies and headed for the bar. He really needed a drink and picked up some water for the kid on the way.

"FRIDAY, we could probably do with some soup for the boy. Beef broth or something. Find someone who delivers something fresh and fast."

_**"On it, Boss."** _

Tony walked back to the table, set the water down next to the kid, then let himself fall onto the couch.

"And Chicken Fried Rice with some Egg Rolls."

_**"Right away, Sir."** _

He took a deep gulp of his whiskey.

"Do we have any dark chocolate lying around?"

_**"Not that I'm aware of, Sir. There might be food left in one of the communal kitchens on a different level, but I have no access to those parts of the building presently."** _

"Order some of that as well."

_**"Yes, Sir."** _

He took another gulp of his drink before he looked over to the boy on the table in front of him. The kid still had his eyes firmly looked on the ceiling and wiped his face from time to time.

_**"Boss, I send the orders out and there is a call waiting for you."** _

"Thanks, FRI."

He fished his phone out of his pocket and Natasha's face popped up on the display. He sighed and glanced over to the kid.

"I'll have to take this..." He stood up. Before he walked off he opened the water bottle for the boy. "Drink something. Food will be here soon."

The kid nodded weakly.

"I'll be right back."

He didn’t pick up the call before he had reached his bedroom.

"What do you want?"

"Don't you have that telephone etiquette down to a T!"

"Seriously, Nat. What's up."

"I wanted to talk."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now. I'm outside the lab. Just open the damn door."

Tony suppressed a groan and thought of an imaginative amount of curse words he'd like to utter at that.

"Don't be a baby!"

"I'm not..."

"I can hear you bitch and moan all the way out here. We need to talk."

"I'm not in the lab."

_Well, that shut her up._

"Nat..."

"Just a little stunned. Are you looking for the Spider already?"

Tony rolled his eyes. He stepped closer to his bedroom windows, further away from the door that led out to the living room.

"No, I'm not looking for the Spider."

He tried to reign in his snark to not accidentally overemphasize the "looking" part of that sentence.

"Are you out drinking again?"

He let himself fall onto his bed and placed the empty whiskey glass onto the bedside table.

"Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Listen, Tony, I know you're pissed, but you need to meet me half-way here."

"I'm not pissed. I'm just busy. Can we do this tomorrow?"

"You said the Spider-dude had a routine that was easy to crack. He might still be out there..."

"Not tonight. We can't drag him anywhere tonight. Let's talk about this tomorrow!"

"Why are you whispering?"

He sat up straight on the bed. "What? I'm not... I... I just have company."

"Pepper is in LA."

"Jesus, Nat. Not that kind of company."

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm in Manhattan and now I have to go. We will deal with this tomorrow!"

"Urgh, fine!"

She hung up before he could. His face rested in his hands. It was quite the pickle he had gotten himself into with the Spider-Boy. As he got back to the living room, he found the kid had sat up on the table.

"Jeeze, kid. Where do you think you're going?"

The boy turned to him, clearly uncomfortable.

"Getting a bit sore on that tabletop, hm?"

The boy hesitated when Tony offered him a hand to get off the table.

"The couch will probably be easier on your back."

He kept his hand stretched out towards him and frowned when the kid still hesitated to accept the help.

"Boss, the delivery is on its way up in the elevator."

"Thanks, FRI. Come one, kid."

He stepped a little closer, put his arm around the boy's back, which did prompt the Spiderling to hold onto his shoulder. Tony helped him over to the couch, a pillow popped up against the armrest to support the boy's back, he had stretched his legs out on the couch. The kid was still in what remained of his torn onesie, He should probably try to find some clothes that could fit the boy. For now, he picked up a blanket from the other end of the couch. He stopped himself from actually covering the kid with it. This was all starting to feel a little awkward. The degree of mothering to which Tony was apparently secretly capable of came as a bit of a shock. So he just left the blanket within reach for him, just in case, he did want it. The boy had grabbed it to cover his legs and most of his upper body when Tony returned from the elevator with the food containers in hand. Both of them stayed quiet while Tony unpacked the delivery, carefully handed the Spiderling the soup as well as the chocolate.

They sat. They ate. The atmosphere had taken a turn for the awkward silence. The boy might just be exhausted from the whole ordeal, but it felt like there was more to it. Tony glanced over to the boy again and again, but he had his eyes fixed on that beef broth. He might just have trouble with the broth as his hands were still shaking considerably.

"You alright there?"

"Yeah... yeah."

And they were back to more silence.

_Great._

Then the boy did look up at him.

"Why didn't you... just... just get them a new car?"

"Excuse me?"

"You have all this... money and, and... all this tech. And they... they just happened to be... in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why not just give them a break?"

"Because if they sue me and I just give them stuff, there're about 300 Million other people who'd suddenly need some new stuff too."

"Right."

The kid cast his eyes back down to his soup. Tony bit his lip for a moment as he studied the boy, then tilted his head before he turned back to his food.

"They were alright, you know..."

"Yeah, okay."

"In fact, they happened to win tickets to this morning talk show in LA just a couple of weeks later."

He looked up from his food to see the kid staring at him again.

"Yeah, I think the lady had to participate in some kind of..." he screwed up his face like he tried to remember some far off detail of the anecdote. "charades... or a word quiz kinda thing. Apparently, she got a new car and a few thousand dollars out of it."

He cast his eyes back down to the food and scooped up some more of his Fried Rice.

"You... you gave them a car... after all?"

Tony kept his eyes down on the food.

"They won it. In a talk show game."

"I don't... I don't understand."

Tony looked up to find the boy rub at his eyes. He stood up and walked over to the couch and took the broth out of the Spiderling's hands.

"That's alright. You need to rest anyway."

"Just... why... why not just tell them..."

"Sometimes, some people deserve a lucky break. Most people can handle a lucky break a lot better than charity."

He patted the boy's shoulder and walked over to the next room into the kitchen to put away the food. By the time he got back, the Spiderling had nodded off.

So, Tony and his phone made themselves comfortable in the armchair opposite the couch again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, guys. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the new Avenger's trailer, though I personally thought it gave a little more away than I wanted it to.


	12. Of Trust and Lies

###  **Chapter 12: Of Trust and Lies**

Sitting in his chair, Tony pondered the situation he had gotten himself into. An injured minor lying on his couch that a Super Soldier and his entourage were looking for, in fact, had demanded of him to bring in for questioning. He knew there was exactly one choice to be made here. One choice that was responsible and right. A 15-year-old boy could not jump around New York like that. He'd go and get himself killed, case in point his current state. Plus, Tony was part of a team and he should be pulling his weight. The only right choice was to get the boy to the Compound.

But then why did it feel like such a bad choice to make...

Tony bit his lip. His eyes darted up from his phone over to the kid on his couch. He almost dropped the device when he found the boy staring back at him. The Spiderling had woken up.

The boy averted his eyes and cleared his throat. "What time is it?" He looked around the living room, probably in search for a clock.

"Why? Do you have places to be?"

The Spiderling rolled his eyes at him.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?"

The kid's hands came up to cover his face and with that the red flush that was creeping up from his neck.

"FRIDAY, time?"

_**"It's 12:35 am, Sir."** _

The Spiderling sat up on the couch with a start and immediately curled inwardly towards his knife wound.

"Seriously, kid!" Tony actually jumped up out of the chair himself. "I'd really appreciated it if you didn't pull out your stitches!"

The boy groaned and hid his face behind his pulled up knees.

"You alright?"

"Yeah... yeah..."

"Did it feel like something ripped?"

"No... It's... it's alright."

"I..." Tony cleared his throat, sitting back down. "I found some stuff for you to wear. There's a room down the hall, where you can sleep."

Peter looked up at him, biting his lip.

"Again... if there's someone I should be calling..." He raised his eyebrows at him expectantly, phone still in hand.

The boy let himself fall back against the pillow. He stared at the hands in his lap, nervously picking at his fingernails.

Tony tried to keep his hands steady. His fingers twitched but he suppressed the urge to drum them against his phone.

"You're going to bring me to them, aren't you?"

Tony's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I... yeah... I mean I guess... If you tell me who-"

"To the Avengers." The kid swallowed hard, his eyes still cast down to his hands. "They... they want you to... to bring me in and... and you're gonna do that..." The kid's eyes turned to him. "You're planning to do that... in the morning... aren't you?"

Tony sat up straight. Alright, he had not expected the boy to be this perceptive. Or maybe he'd just let himself be blinded by his own hope to get out of this whole thing without getting sued over child endangerment. If the kid just told him about his family, Tony could hand him over to them and possibly pretend he didn't know anything about any of this.

"Listen, kid-"

The boy sat back up - considerably more carefully - just as Tony started speaking, fists clenched, eyes wide and pleading.

"Mr. Stark. Please..."

"Okay, hold on for a moment."

"...I swear I'll stay out of trouble..."

"I haven't really decided..."

"...I won't ever show up—"

"Peter!"

The boy stopped, let his head drop and rest in his hands with a deep sigh.

"They just want to talk."

The kid looked up at him again, his face balled up in frustration.

"They chased me through half of Manhattan."

Tony shrugged.

"Well, they really... _really_ wanted to talk."

"You know, how you freaked out... when you found out... If they find out-"

"Oh, Cap will blow a gasket."

"Mr. Stark, please..."

"You put yourself on the map today, kid. I'm not sure how you expect me to help you with this. Eventually, they'll find you and there's literally nothing I can do about that."

The boy let his head drop again and buried it in his hands.

"It's not gonna be a disaster. They..." Tony sighed, rubbing his neck. "I don't think they would hand you over to the authorities. They just want to know that you're not a threat."

The kid head shot up, his eyes red and glistening, obviously trying to hold back tears.

"Can't you just tell them, that I'm not? Please, Mr. Stark..."

Tony leaned back in his armchair and laughed.

"What makes you think they'd take my word for it?"

"You're Iron Man!"

Tony sobered up. He fixed the boy with a stare.

"And what makes you think, that I don't believe you to be a threat?"

The boy's mouth slammed shut. He swallowed, confusion overtaking the pleading look his face had been sporting just before.

"But... you know... I told you... I just want to help."

Tony shifted in his chair. He slowly leaned forward, fixing the kid with a stare.

"You refuse to tell me anything about yourself. Who you are, why you're doing this, where you belong, who your family is if you even have one. What if that cut had been a little deeper, huh? What if you'd bled out on my balcony tonight, leaving me with no idea who to call and who to inform? You run around this town like you're invincible when you're not!"

He got up from his chair. His phone slid into his pants' pocket as he turned towards the window and paced back and forth.

"I know nothing about you and you're determined to keep as much about yourself from me as you can, but _I'm_ supposed to trust _you_? You want me to stick my neck out and make them some kind of guarantee about your character? About your intentions?"

Tony looked him up and down, huddled on his couch.

"Tell me why! Why do you do this?"

He waited for the boy to answer, but the Spiderling just shook his head in confusion, dabbing at his eyes.

"I don't... I don't understand."

"You're a kid. You're supposed to obsess about social media and music... movies... video games... and run around with your little friends. And yet you put yourself in a ridiculous amount of danger. Why?"

He studied the boy, watched him fiddle with the blanket.

"I..." The kid cleared his throat. His hand flew up to his eyes again, rubbing at them. "I've had these... powers... for six months." The kid threw his head back and blinked rapidly. "I can't tell people, that I'm different. I can't tell my friends or... or my family. It just... it would change _everything_."

"Look around you, Spiderling. It's too late for that. Everything has already changed. You need to stop going down this road or you'll have to live with the consequences!"

The kid was still staring at his hands, avoiding Tony's eyes.

"I... I don't think, I can." The kid swallowed and slowly shook his head. "When you... When you can do the things that I can, but you don't... and then the bad things happen..." His eyes drifted off his hands up to Tony. "Then they happen because of you."

Tony sighed and turned away from him towards the windows. He let his hands run through his hair and brought more distance between himself and Peter. He'd grown soft. This whole mess he had somehow slipped into wanting to protect Pepper. He should have stayed out of all of this.

"Jeez, kid." He turned back to face the boy from across the room. "You're killing me. Couldn't you have just turned out to be some attention seeking jackass-y little troublemaker?"

He swung back around, his back to the kid, but he could still see him in the reflection of the window as the boy shuffled uncomfortably on the couch.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." His voice low, eyes not straying from the kid, as he crossed his arms.

He knew that Nat was right. He'd have to give them something on Spider-Man. They wouldn't let this go. But, damn, that kid was likable. So likable it was actually suspicious because he didn't just find people likable. Maybe with the exception of Pepper. He usually had to work for it to even tolerate most people in his space.

_**"Sir, there's a call waiting for you."** _

"Just take a message, FRI."

_**"It's Miss Potts calling."** _

He groaned, turning on his heal.

_Speaking of the devil. Wonderful. Of course,_ _now_ _she'd call..._

"You!" He pointed at the boy. "You stay put. We're not done here. I'll be right back."

His eyes still fixed on the Spiderling he walked towards his bedroom. He fished his phone out of his pocket on the way.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And what was that?"

"I'll... I'll stay put."

"FRIDAY, keep an eye on him."

_**"Yes, Sir."** _

He took a deep breath, a shiver of anxiety ran down his spine as he entered his bedroom and picked up the call.

"Hi, Potts."

"Mr. Stark..."

He let out a nervous chuckle.

"That bad, huh?"

He hated doing this over the phone. He thought about switching this to a video call so he would at least be able to work off of her body language, but decided against it. Pepper would usually video call him and the fact that she didn't was telling in itself. It had taken long enough to get her on the phone in the first place. He couldn't screw this up.

"Yes, I'd say so."

"Pepper, I'm sorry." He paced up and down along the window front of the bedroom. "I should have picked up the phone. I should have known, that you were worried. I'm sorry."

"I've waited for you to call me."

He stopped, his forehead wrinkled into a frown.

"I... I did. I called every day for a week and a half."

"Not today you didn't. I've been looking at reports from that terrorist attack in Manhattan all day..."

"Oh, Pepper..."

"I know, we're broken up and the last couple of months have been tough, but we're still supposed to be friends, Tony! At the very least I'm still your CEO!"

"I'm sorry, Pep. I... Things today were a little crazy and-"

"Things with you are always crazy!"

"I'm sorry..."

She stayed quiet on the other end of the line and Tony let himself fall onto the bed. How did he fuck up like this again and again? He aimed for a more lighthearted tone to mellow the conversation.

"God, Potts. When we broke up I really thought that at least you wouldn't have to worry about these kinds of things anymore."

"I saw pictures from today. From the... scene."

Tony was massaging his temples with one hand. There had been a bit of fire back and forth, a couple of grenades. Had the site looked that bad? When they had left the NYPD to handle the reopening of the street he had taken a quick assessment of the situation but—

"Seems like Spider-Man helped you out."

Tony sat up straight. At last the icy turn her voice had taken struck him with full force.

"Pepper—"

"You lied to me."

"I didn't..."

"You said you'd never even met the guy!"

"Pepper, I hadn't."

His heart cramped painfully. If she had been in the room with him he might have been able to calm her but like this... What idiot even came up with fucking telephones? Some conversations were just never meant to be had any other way than face to face.

"You even had FRIDAY lie to my face!"

"Can you let me explain this for a second?"

"Let me guess, he just happened to show up and you had nothing to do with it?"

"I went to see him on the night you came to the Compound." He waited a moment for her to interject, but she didn't. "I didn't know anything about him before you told me about what happened to you. Then I got worried about someone targeting you." He was desperate for her to understand but Pepper was still quiet on the other end of the line. "I checked him out then. I didn't lie to you. I would never lie to you about something that is this important."

"Why didn't you just tell me that that's where you were going? Why is getting any information out of you always such a struggle, Tony?"

"I called you. I tried to talk to you!"

"The next day! After I was up all night trying to find you. I called and called you! I left messages. I called Rhodey. I even tried to make FRIDAY tell me about your location! You couldn't even be bothered to send a text?"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that."

He got back up. He had no solution for this. He didn't even know where to begin. It was impossible to stay still so he paced around the room again.

"Tell me what to do, Pepper. I don't know... I don't know how to fix this, other than telling you that I'm sorry."

He was still pacing but there was only silence on the other end of the line.

"Pepper, just talk to me."

"I don't know. I don't know how you can _fix_ this. I don't know if there is even anything to fix at this point."

"Come on, don't say that..."

"I have an early day tomorrow."

"Pepper, please... Don't. I—"

"Goodnight, Tony."

"Pepper..."

He looked down at his phone screen, but she'd already disconnected the call. He threw the phone against the opposite wall of the room and turned to punch his first again the glass of the window. He cursed wildly before he quickly went around the bed to pick the phone back up. He dialed Pepper's number. The call only went to voicemail. The first and the second and also the third time. He sat down on the bed and rested his face in his hands. He was gonna fix this. Somehow. He didn't know how, but he'd find a way. He just had to. 

*

Peter was still huddled on the sofa in Tony Stark's penthouse. He could hear that the man had picked up the call and just like before he could hear his side of the conversation just fine. He forced himself to stop. Listening in on his conversation with Miss Potts seemed like more of an intrusion of Stark's privacy. In this case, there was very little room to excuse his eavesdropping with a healthy sense of self-preservation. He reached for the clothes that Stark had left for him at the end of the couch.

0:35 in the morning. Probably 0:50 am by now. A little more than three hours till May would get off her night shift. If she came home and only found an empty room with Peter nowhere in sight, it wouldn't matter what Stark or the Avengers had in store for him. She'd just track him down and kill him. And then probably revive him just so she could kill him a second time after she'd found out what kind of trouble Peter had gotten himself into.

_ She couldn't find out. Not like this _ _._ _ He couldn't let that happen. _

Peter's gaze went up to the ceiling. That was where the lady's voice had come from. It was probably some kind of AI. Not even Tony Stark would have a PA sitting around all day catering to his every whim. Or would he? Was someone actually watching him? He cast his eyes down. He had to leave. He had to get home. Maybe Stark was right and he'd gone too far. Maybe his life was bound to change completely now, just like he had known it must one day after he'd discovered his powers. But not like this. Not with the Avengers showing up on May's doorstep. If there was a chance that he could keep things normal a little while longer, maybe calmly let May in on his secret then he had to try. He had to leave.

Sure, Stark would probably be pissed, but between May and the looming threat of the Avengers what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't just sit there like a scared little boy and wait for things to fall into place. Last time he went for that approach he'd lost Ben. He wouldn't give up without a fight. He'd go home and spend time with May and Ned. With the decathlon team and go to prom. He might have to lay low for a bit, but there was still time to fix this. There had to be.

He took a deep breath before he slowly moved his legs down to the floor. His wounds still hurt. He could feel the throbbing of the cut in his abdomen. The cut on his face still stung as well. Most of the smaller abrasions and cuts were either on the mend or simply drowned out by those two serious wounds. With the few hours of sleep he had gotten at the Tower, he certainly felt a little better. Strong enough to get home... Well, he had to try. Standing up was the worst part. He tried to put most of the strain on his right side, tried to engage his abdominal muscles as little as possible. Once he was on his feet, the pain subsided and he felt more confident. He made his way over to the table where Stark had stitched him up and picked up his mask. The fabric was bloody and torn, but it was the best and only way to keep his face hidden once he made it to the outside of the Tower.

He took a deep breath, braced himself before he carefully walked over to the balcony door. There were no handles. He had no idea how to open it. He casts a shy look up to the ceiling. The door had fallen shut when Stark had instructed the lady - the AI? - to close it. Maybe it wasn't even possible to just open it manually...

"Well." Another deep breath and he took his courage in both hands. "Here goes nothing."

He pressed his shaking hands against the glass, pushed his weight against the door, but nothing happened. The door didn't move. He peered into the direction of where Stark had disappeared to. Quickly he turned back. Deep breaths. He would not think about what Stark might do if he found him trying to jailbreak his penthouse. The panic attack he'd had earlier was still vividly on his mind and he could not let himself go back to that place of despair but his pulse had picked up anyway. There was bound to be some kind of alarm that would go off any second. His eyes flickered up to the ceiling but nothing happened. He pushed again, tried to slide it to one side then the other. Nothing.

"Well, that was anti-climactic." He stepped back, taking his hands off the glass.

Now what?

Again, his glance went up to the ceiling. He bit his lip. He didn't really have much to lose.

"Excuse me, lady... erm... Friday? Would you mind opening the door for me? I'd... I'd really like some fresh air..." he grimaced at the high pitched, nervous voice and the pathetic words coming out of his mouth.

_"I'm sorry, Spider-Man. Access to the outside deck is limited to people with A1 authorization only."_

_Fuck._

He turned to face the room, leaned his back against the window.

_**"For open-air visitor access, I recommend the recreational viewing platforms situated on the 25th or 50th-floor Sky Lobbies."** _

His eyes shot back up to the ceiling.

"Could you... Would you mind calling the elevator for me?"

_**"Certainly."** _

Peter's heart rate spiked and he made his way over to the elevator as fast and quietly as possible, ignoring the pain that pierced him with every step. The doors opened right when he reached them. Panting, he stepped inside. Where the hell were the buttons? There was only an access card scanner, a handprint pad, and an emergency switch were attached to the elevator's wall. He spoke up once more.

"Erm... Friday. Could you... could you bring me to the 25th-floor sky lobby? Please?"

_**"Certainly, Spider-Man. Please be advised, to regain access to your current floor - Penthouse 68 - authorization will have to be granted by a person with A1 level clearance. I would be happy to let Mr. Stark know about—"** _

"No!" He cleared his throat. "That's... that's alright. I don't want to disturb his call. We can... we can just tell him when I want to come back up again."

_**"Very well, Spider-Man."** _

The doors closed and a soft shiver went down Peter's spine as the elevator raced to the 25th floor.

*

Tony was lying on his bed, thinking, calculating. He could probably find a reason why he had to go to LA. There was bound to be stuff that R&D at the LA headquarters had been haranguing him about, that he'd put off. Pepper would probably know that it was just a ruse to see her, but he'd still feel like saving face in front of everyone who wasn't Pepper. First, he had to get things around New York in order though.

He got up and walked towards the living room, phone in hand, scrolling through his calendar. Early next week would probably work. It'd give her time to cool down and he would have a few days to figure out what to do with his spider problem.

"Alright, kid. It's been a long day. How about..." He'd looked up and found the couch empty. He looked around the room. The clothes he'd laid out for the boy were gone. As was his mask.

_Oh, hell no..._

"FRIDAY, please tell me that you showed the kid to the guest room..."

_**"Spider-Man was asking for fresh air. I directed him to the Sky Lobbies that are accessible for visitors without security clearance."** _

Tony turned towards the elevator, pulse racing.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why would you do that? I told you to keep an eye on him!"

_**"Boss, all his movement has been recorded and cataloged as long as he was in reach of my sensors or the tower's security surveillance system. He went to the Sky Lobby on the 25th floor and scaled the balustrade 20 minutes ago where he then moved outside of the tower's surveillance range."** _

He stopped in his tracks and groaned in frustration. He was gone. There was no point in looking at an empty viewing platform on the 25th floor.

"Shit. Why the fuck did you not alert me that he went down to the 25th floor?"

_**"I'm sorry, Boss. Protocol 'Pepperony' is currently activated, dictating that you are not to be disturbed while on a phone call with Miss Potts unless the city or world are literally or figuratively on fire."** _

He shook his head in frustration.

"Access all the security footage we have on that floor between the elevator and the viewing platform from the last 30 minutes send it to my phone."

_That damn kid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much for the lovely and kind comments! Every new one always makes my day :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I know, it's a bit of a slow burn and some of you want Peter and Tony to find out the truth sooner rather than later. Well, it's not that fast paced I'm afraid ;) The next couple of chapters are very close to being done though, so I shouldn't keep you waiting for too long with some further developments ;)
> 
> I am actually trying to be fast about the writing as I'm frankly terrified of what will await us in Endgame. If they screw this up, I'm scared they'll just make me not want to watch or engage with any Marvel stuff. (It took me a good 2 years to get over the crappy How I Met Your Mother ending and rewatch the good stuff.) Well, fingers crossed that they don't screw it up.
> 
> PSA:  
> As you might have noticed, I gave up on chapter summaries. Describing something super vague feels weird and at the same time, I don't want to get too detailed and give stuff away.


	13. The Spider's Lair

It was 3 am by the time Tony returned to the Compound. He had spent over an hour cleaning the penthouse, 40 minutes of that outside on the balcony at sub-zero temperatures scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees. A pool of the kid's blood had been half dried and half frozen to the tiled floor of his balcony that seemed almost like a punishment for his foolishness. He also learned why you're not supposed to clean glass windows in winter. The damn cleaning product just kept freezing to the window front and actually enlarging the splashes of red, the bloody handprints the Spiderling's had left when he had been knocking on the penthouse windows.

_That damn kid._

It had taken him multiple attempts to get rid of the blood. Granted, the windows weren't exactly clean, but at least the traces of blood were gone. Now it only looked like someone had unsuccessfully tried to remove a couple of bird droppings. For now, that had to be good enough. The construction team he had hired was supposed to arrive by 7 am and he didn't want deal with any stories that were bound to make their way into the tabloids if the workers were to show up on his floor and find blood all over the place. Postponing the construction would have been an option but he needed to get out of the Compound. That peace and quiet away from team building exercises and Super Soldiers' reproachful glances, he needed that badly. That was a priority he was not willing to postpone.

He didn't bother to use the main entrance when he arrived at the Compound. Their usual running routine would kick off just before 6 am. So it was unlikely that any of them would be up and about at 3 am, but Tony was not going to take any chances. He let FRIDAY guide the suit through his emergency door right into the lab.

"Alright, FRIDAY, pull up the video files from the Tower as well as the analysis we did on the Spiderling in February. See if you can tell what side of the building he climbed down on."

His suit had retracted itself and he sat down at his desk. The holographic keyboard popped up right in front of him.

_**"The files are being processed right now, Sir."** _

"Do we have access to any of the security footage from the streets around the Tower so we can see which way he went?"

Queens might have been the obvious guess, but there was always the possibility that the kid was clever enough not to go where Tony would definitely check.

_**"Sir, there are cameras that could have picked him up. However, we do not have access to those recordings, officially."** _

"Okay, let's not break any laws until we hit a dead end. Tell me -"

A strong knock on the door silenced him mid-sentence.

"FRI?"

 _**"Captain Rogers is asking to see you, Boss."** _

"Blank!"

At once the files and calculations about Spider-Man's past movements that FRIDAY had projected in the middle of the room disappeared along with the keyboard.

_**"Good girl, open the door for the good Captain, would you."** _

"We have intel from Switzerland. We're leaving now!"

Tony's eyes widened and he shot up from his chair.

"Is it the same weapon signature as it was today?"

By the time Rogers had made it halfway through the lab to stand next to him, Tony had reached into the large bottom drawer of his desk for his go-bag.

"What?" Rogers shook his head in confusion. "No, it's intel on Bucky. We have footage of what is probably him and also a few eyewitnesses lined up."

Tony's chest deflated. His bag hit the ground with a soft bang.

"Woah, Cap. First of all, you almost gave me a heart attack. Second: That's a horrible idea!"

Rogers shook his head in confusion.

"Why?"

"Well, mostly cause you stormed in here like the country was gonna explode any second."

He shook his head again, his expression changing from confusion to annoyance.

"Why is it a bad idea?"

"Because it's Switzerland!"

"So?"

"One doesn't not simply fly a jet into Switzerland..." He suppressed a cocky smirk realizing that Rogers probably wouldn't get the joke and continued "They are a bit touchy about having foreign agents in their country."

Tony sat back down in his chair while Rogers crossed his arms.

"We're not going as American agents though."

"Yeah..." Tony screwed up his face incredulously. "I don't think they'll see it like that."

"We haven't had a lead in months! This is all we have and I have to follow up on it!"

"Listen to me, Steve. Flying into any country without informing their government of our intervention is risky and I'm assuming from who we're following here that is the plan, right? To keep this under the radar again?" Rogers only gave a curt nod of confirmation.

"We can't screw with Switzerland, Cap! They don't fuck around when it comes to their sovereignty and they are powerful!"

"We don't have time to discuss this. We might only get one shot here and I already made the decision. I'm taking Sam, Nat, and Wanda."

"Steve..."

"We need you to represent the team at the debrief with the national, state and city advisory board tomorrow regarding the operation in Manhattan."

Tony's jaw dropped as Rogers dropped a folder on his desk.

"You can't be serious."

"Tony, we need you with this!"

"You want me to walk in there on my own? After the closest call, we've had in the city in years?"

"We stopped them, didn't we?"

"Well, barely..."

Rogers turned towards the exit as Tony flicked through the documents.

"Are there some talking points in here as well, in case you guys get shot down over Switzerland?"

"I need to go, Tony. We'll be on radio silence as soon as we get in European radar range."

With fast steps, Rogers exited the lab leaving Tony with a folder to study and a brewing headache.

**

Peter had made it to the apartment with less than 30 minutes to spare. His progress had been slow and painful. By the time he had climbed the wall to his bedroom he was absolutely exhausted. He managed to find an oversized band-aid in the small stash of supplies he had carefully collected over the past months. There was the odd item he had taken from friends' bathrooms or the school nurse so he wouldn't have to spend the little pocket money he had on medical supplies. Said band-aid now covered the gash on the left side of his face. Mr. Stark had taped the cut, but that wasn't good enough for Peter. He needed the cut to be covered up in its entirety. If nobody could see it, nobody would register how fast it was healing. He didn't really have a reference for a cut like that on his face. Hopefully it would heal just as fast as the smaller cuts and bruises that he had suffered here and there in the past. He sure as hell wasn't going to reopen this one to mimic regular people's healing time. Applying the band-aid was the only thing he could stomach after the day's events. He crawled under the covers, hadn't even bothered to change out of Mr. Stark's clothes. Worst case scenario it'd take too long with his body aching all over or that he wouldn't hide them well enough from May in the dark. Or that it would hurt again when he would try to take off the clothes. He felt his pulse pick up just thinking about the pain.

_Nope. No, no, no..._

Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Happy thoughts. He'd have to think happy thoughts, distract himself. Another panic attack would be incredibly inconvenient right now. So, he thought of sunshine and summer and how he totally wanted to try out water skiing. He was exhausted and not falling asleep was a struggle, but he couldn't sleep yet. May would check on him when she got home, which would be any minute now. There couldn't be anything to tip her off, no clues for her to pick up on. He'd placed his face strategically onto the pillow, propped up his head just enough that the wound on his face wasn't touching the bed, because pain, but was at the same time obstructed from view, because May. All he wanted was to lie on his right side and draw himself into a fetal position. He was quite sure that his body would promptly do exactly that when he would let himself fall asleep. But that wasn't an option right now, because May...

So for now, Peter had to try and stay awake. He was lying on his back, face turned to the side, sheets pulled up all the way to his chin so they hid Stark's clothes.

He heard May before she even put the key into the lock. He had heard the elevator move and that just had to be her. When her key was pushed into the lock, he took a deep breath and turned his head a little further to the left. Maybe this angle looked a little too unnatural... He turned back a bit. Eyes closed, his breathing sounded weirdly loud and forced. How did he usually breathe? Surely not as fast as he did right then. His heart hammered away in his chest and he was sure that even without any enhanced senses May must be hearing it all the way from the living room. Another deep breath to calm himself as her steps echoed down the corridor getting closer to his room. He willed his body to relax and not to look too suspicious.

She opened the door and for a moment she just stood there. There was a hot flush that crept from his neck all the way into his face. It would be too dark for her to see that though, right? But she didn't move further into the room, just whispering a low "Goodnight, honey.”, backed out of the room and closed the bedroom door.

**

There was a constant drumming, a dull rhythmic sound, that was going to drive Tony up the wall. He was surrounded by city officials, the Governor, a couple of Senators and Congress(wo)men as well as members of the NYPD, FDNY, and some National Security advisors. They were well into the 7th hour of a meeting that didn't seem to want to end. Currently, he was sitting through the rant of another security advisor to the chief staff person of he didn't even know. If they'd at least be a little creative but no, it was the same lecture about decorum, responsibility, accountability and so on and so forth. He was pretty sure that he had heard that exact speech at least four times already in this meeting alone. Had these men compared notes and stolen passages from each other or had they all simply googled "speech on accountability" and thnt printed out the first result that had popped up?

Either way, even if the dude would have had something of substance to say, Tony would have had a hard time to concentrate on the rant. _Someone_ was being annoying as fuck, drumming away under the table. His money was on the small bald dude three seats down from him whose hands had disappeared underneath the table and his pen was nowhere in sight.

_Dude with the pen in the conference room. Bingo. Case closed._

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony looked up. Right, terrorists. Manhattan. He forced his thoughts to pivot back to the topic at hand. The colored glasses he was wearing were supposed to give him a bit of cover, but there was a possibility that his head had started to tilt over to his shoulder far enough to make him look suspiciously absent. Mentally at least. Chances were low that he'd get out of this room any time soon. He sat up straight and suppressed the urge to stretch out his arms to relax the muscles in his back.

"Do you understand, why that is a problem for us?" The security advisor to the chief staff–person had his eyes narrowed. Tony swallowed his amusement. Please, he'd gotten those kinds of stares for decades. They had to step up their game if they were planning on guilt-tripping him.

"I can see that you're frustrated with the current process. I'm still waiting for a suggestion on how it is supposed to be improved."

The dude's fist hit the table. "It's not a process! It's simply you doing whatever you want at any given time!"

Tony's eyebrows shot up behind his glasses. Tsk, tsk, tsk. So little stamina, so easily tossing one strategy out of the window, swinging for intimidation now. Were they not aware who they are talking to? "Well, if that was true, I'd certainly not be sitting here getting yelled at for 7 hours after saving a few million citizens in Manhattan yesterday."

"Mr. Stark..." Congresswoman Alicia Davis spoke up. A wave of her hand silenced the former speaker. "Of course New York is grateful for your assistance..."

"Oh 'assistance', is it..." Tony rolled his eyes, his voice only a low mumble.

"...but I'm sure you can understand our concerns. We want to be included in the decision-making process to weigh the risks and benefits for our constituents."

"Congresswomen Davis, like I have said before," He really tried not to over-stress the 'before' part of that sentence even though he felt like he'd been having the same conversation over and over again today. "We are absolutely happy to work with you on these issues, but situations like the one in question here, require fast and immediate action. I can assure you that we have enough on our plates that we will only directly and immediately engage in situations where the threats to human life are so severe and imminent that the government departments would be unable to stop them. We are perfectly happy to leave any other problems that the NYPD or the Military or whoever responsible _can_ handle by themselves for the relevant authorities to actually _do_ handle with their _own_ expertise."

"Oh yeah?! Well, that's not what we have been experiencing!" Big, mustache dude – judging by the uniform he was wearing from the NYPD – banged _his_ fist on the table and glared at Tony.

"Excuse me?" That Alpha male line these dudes constantly pushed was seriously getting on his nerves.

"You have been sending in your Spider guy, screwing us all over Queens and even Manhattan! Is that what you call 'leaving things' to the 'relevant authorities'?"

Behind his glasses, Tony rolled his eyes so far he was sure he could actually feel his eye muscles strain – if that even was a thing.

_That damn kid._

**

Peter was on his way home from another _glorious_ day at school. It was getting harder and harder to remember why he still kept his not-so-new found powers quiet. Sure, he wanted to keep his life the way it had always been. That was the mature things to do, right? But with idiots like Flash who ruined a huge portion of his school days that approach now seemed less and less logical. He sighed and strolled out of one of the school's side entrances. It wasn't his usual direct route to get home. This way he'd only have to jump a smaller fence on the eastern side of the school grounds though, not the wall to the south of the school. Jumping the fence was still quicker than if he left through the front entrance and he was less likely to run into anyone that he would have rather avoided, including Ned. Ned who'd been very inquisitive about the band-aid on his face and the stiffness of his movements in general. With a glance first to the left and then to the right, he was confident that nobody was around to see him. All it took was a little bend in the knees to gather momentum and he took a leap over the fence. His body still ached from the beating it had taken two days ago. The fence had been the right choice. There was no way that he could have managed the wall with a quick jump. Even this shallow jump was a challenge for his still-healing knife wound. Pain shot through his abdomen when his feet came down on the other side of the wall. The impact left him paralyzed and he took a few deep breath while he cowered on the ground for a moment and waited for the pain to subside. He panted slowly and deeply before he lifted himself up.

"Alright... just shake it off..." His voice was only a quiet murmur to himself as he felt a shiver run through his body. "You're good. You're great. Okay, then." Home. That was all he needed. Just to get home. There were a couple of spots on his route where he could pick up some comfort food, but really he just wanted to get into his room, close the blinds and simply mope.

"You're not pathetic. You just need a break. Everyone needs a break at some point."

_And talking to yourself is totally not pathetic either. Lots of people do it. Probably._

Maybe he was too weak for all this, specifically for the consequences that came with crime-fighting. But right now that didn't matter. He was too strung out, too close to his breaking point to even think about that out in the open. Physically that night in Manhattan had shown him his limits. He was not untouchable and apparently he had had to learn that the hard way. But while his body was slowly healing it was his mind that was strung to a point he could barely handle. There was a sense of dread that followed him around. He avoided alleyways he'd not have thought about crossing through twice just a week ago. It felt like his Spidey-senses had failed him, hadn't properly tipped him off about what kind of danger he had been in two nights ago. Or maybe he'd just gotten too cocky and narcissistic with his focus on the Avengers for the alarm bells to register. How was he supposed to trust himself? He couldn't... not until he decided what exactly had gone wrong. The mere thought of that night gave him shivers though. He couldn't think about it. Not yet. And then he felt guilty as well. His senses had again and again picked up incidents over the last couple of days, but his injuries and his mental weakness just wouldn't allow him to help the people that needed him.

The night at Stark Tower still worried him, too. Sure, Stark didn't know anything about him, only his first name, but the man had found him in the middle of Queens by looking at a few youtube videos. When he had left – well, let's be honest, fled – the Tower, he had left the remnants of his suit behind, only grabbed his mask. The web-shooters had still been attached to his wrists. He had exposed himself, said too much. He knew that. But what else could he have done? There was no one else. He couldn't tell anybody and trusting Stark... well, Peter didn't _trust_ him, he had needed someone that was not gonna sell him out right away. That whole night at the Tower had been crazy and even though Stark had called off the EMTs when he found out, it still complicated things to a degree that unnerved Peter. Unnerved might be putting it a little bit too casual. It petrified him.

If he hadn't skipped out on Stark, May would have only found his empty bed when she got home from work. That just hadn't been a viable option. Plus, it was the only shot he had to keep himself safe. He wasn't sure if Stark would have actually handed him over to the other Avengers, but the risk was too high for him to stay and find out. It was the only way, even if it meant that he had broken his promise, had left even though he had given his word to stay put. A breach of confidence like that would not be something that Tony Stark would take lightly.

"Screw it!" He turned left instead of continuing down the street to get home. It was a detour, but he needed to make a stop at Delmar's. Today's mood required a special treat.

With his usual order in hand, he made it back to the apartment in record time. He crashed into his bedroom, threw his backpack into the corner of the room, closed the blinds and slid to the floor. Sandwich first. Maybe it would be enough of a pick-me-up to get him to finally change that wound dressing himself. He hadn't dared to touch it and the longer he waited the worse he felt the dread burn in his chest. Healing factor aside, it was unlikely that he was immune to wound infections. He should have changed it last night or at the latest when he had gotten up that morning. But truth be told, he was scared. Scared it would hurt. Scared how it would look like.

Peter put his half-eaten sandwich aside and strode into the bathroom. It was time. To his surprise, the first-aid kit had been exchanged with a new one, still shrink-wrapped.

He groaned. "This is just great. I open this and May will give me a week's worth of not so subtle interrogations to figure out why I broke this open." He rubbed his face in frustration. May was still in the dark about the extend of his injuries. It had never been as hard as it had been the day before to keep it like that. Granted, usually, his injuries weren't as visible and as severe as they were this time. She'd still been at home when he got back from school and of course the first thing she did was question him about the band-aid on his face. He tried to keep her away from it, but she just wouldn't let it go.

***

"Just let me look at it for a moment..."

"May, come on. It's nothing..."

She tried to hold onto his arm and turn him towards her.

"What happened?"

"Nothing..."

"Well, you don't put a band-aid on your face for nothing. Or did you join some Rapper cult without telling me?"

"What? No..."

"Come here!"

He was frozen to the spot while she slowly peeled the band-aid off his cheek, careful not to hurt him. She bit her lip while Peter studied her out of the corner of his eye. He had no idea what the cut would look like. He'd been too nervous to check.

"Oh, Peter..." She sighed deeply, caressing his other cheek. "What the hell did you do?" She frowned and got close to look at the cut. "Did someone tape this for you?"

He looked away from her. "No. No... I taped it."

"You taped a cut on your own face?" She frowned, still holding firmly onto him. "When did you learn to do that?"

"We had this class. They... it's part of the... you know."

"No, I don't know. What class is this?"

"It's like... a voluntary thing, for students who... who want to get a Learner's Permit. You know. Public safety kinda thing."

Her expression softened. "You want to get a Learner's Permit?"

Peter shook his head and shrugged. "No, just.. you know, I thought. Just in case."

"Honey, we don't have a car."

"I know, I know..."

She sighed again. "So, are you gonna tell me how you cut your face or do I need to resort to other less pleasant methods than just asking you?"

He shrugged her hands off his face and stepped away from her, turning his back in the process.

"Peter... what's going on?"

"Nothing! I just..." He swallowed hard and closed his eyes in frustration. "It's just embarrassing."

"Was that supposed to discourage my curiosity?"

He knew she was trying to brighten the mood and it didn't help with his nerves.

He groaned. "I just... I was... looking at something on my phone and I didn't see where I was going... and I walked into something. It's not a big deal."

He wasn't in the habit of openly lying to her and he did feel horrible about it. But this was the only way. He knew that there was no other option at this time.

"You walked into... something? Face first?"

"I know, it's stupid. I just wasn't-"

"Peter, look at me."

He sighed and turned around to face her. She had narrowed her eyes at him.

"You'd tell me if someone had done this to you right? Someone at school?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Of course. It's not like that..." He couldn't quite meet her eyes. That was a mistake and he knew it. Mr. Stark had been right. He was a liar. And he was horrible at it.

"Alright. If that's what happened..."

"Yes, that's what happened." She knew. She _must_ have known that he was lying. He looked up at her and met her eyes at last. "It's really not a big deal. I'll be fine."

He did try to mean that last part at least.

***

Of course, it really was quite a big deal and he wasn't really fine, but May had let it go. For now. So, there was no point in worrying about that, but he couldn't afford to give her any more clues to pick apart. He avoided his own face in the mirror as he closed the cabinet door. His stash didn't include any of the bandages he'd need for this, but he could run down to the pharmacy. He still had a bit of pocket money left and really how much could a first-aid kit cost? He might have to skip out on a couple of the after-school snacks. But if it meant that he could avoid tipping off May even further it would be worth it. She was like a dog with a bone. Once she got a whiff that something was up, there was no getting her to drop it. He would have to do what he could so he didn't give her any more ammunition.

Going down to the drugstore was really the only sensible choice. He picked up some wound pads, some antibiotic ointment, and bandages. When he was about to pay, his senses tingled and just by reflex he almost ran out of the store. No! He stopped himself and only looked up out of the glass windows towards the street for a second before bringing his focus back down to his medical supplies.

_He was still paying for the last time he jumped without looking. He had to keep his damn feet still._

After he handed over the money, Peter rushed out of the store, but he just couldn't help himself. He scanned the street. On the opposite side of the road was a young woman crying, but there were people there, talking to her.

_See. She's fine._

Peter looked down to his feet and walked back towards the apartment. Back in his room, he threw the medical supplies on top of his school bag before he let himself fall onto his bed. He made a face as his abdomen ached and reached for his half-eaten sandwich. He took a bite, eyes locked on the ceiling of the room. Usually, that would help. Usually, it was only when he closed his eyes that images of his patrol or the bullies or on the worst days Ben would pop up in his mind. Usually. Not so much now. Again and again, his thoughts strayed to the fight in Manhattan. Memories flashed in and out in front of him, memories from a night that were etched into his brain. Or the girl would pop up. The girl who had been crying on the other side of the road The girl who he hadn't helped.

Then with a sudden force, his head turned almost on instinct as he heard a key slide into the lock of the front door. He jumped up off the bed and cursed as he felt that deep ache in his side once more.

"Peter, honey, are you home?"

_May... What? What time was it?_

He darted towards his medical supplies, flung them onto his bed and used his sheet to cover them up. Idiot that he was he had dragged his feet on dealing with his wound and now May was home. Shit.

"Peter?"

He turned towards her, as she knocked and opened the door.

"Yeah, May, Hi! I didn't... didn't realize it's this late."

"It's not. I changed shifts with Gina and came home early, hoping you'd be home so we can spend some time together. I've hardly seen you all week!"

She stepped closer to him, her face lined with obvious worry. She turned his injured cheek towards herself, one hand under his chin.

"It doesn't look as bad as I remembered..." She frowned for a moment but then her face relaxed and her hand cupped his face. "How about some pasta? I'll need your expert skills at the chopping board." She ruffled his hair. "You okay, honey?"

"Yeah... I'm..." He smiled at her. "Pasta would be great."

Peter followed her into the kitchen. It really wasn't a complicated recipe, he could have probably even managed to prepare everything on his own. With the size of their kitchen that would have been more practical. They kept bumping into each other, having to move the other one out of the way to reach a bowl or open a drawer. But it was May. It was comfort being so close to the one person he knew loved him more than anyone. It picked up his spirits, the genuine care she radiated, a soft hand on his shoulder, a lame joke about his tomato cutting technique.

They sat down at the table and he told her about school. Not the nasty parts, that made his head hurt. He really didn't want to steal this moment of coziness from himself. He told her about the Academic Decathlon, the advanced science courses. They were starting to delve into genetics. They had already covered the basic theory, Mendel's laws, the double helix structure of DNA. He told her about the experiments they were scheduled to perform on DNA samples in a few weeks at the end of the semester. He bit his tongue when he thought about that plan he had to compare his own DNA to the test subjects they were going to work on in class. He was dying to find out if the bite had messed with his DNA in any obvious form.

Peter wasn't sure how much of the science talk May actually got. He tried to explain about antiparallel DNA strands and cell division, but she seemed happy to just listen and he was glad to just keep talking. He was helping to dry the dishes while simultaneously scrolling through his Netflix list and offered May different movie choices for the evening's entertainment.

"Peter!" May finally managed to interrupt his rambling about why the fact that The Shawshank Redemption was such an important piece of cinematic history should trump the minor annoyance that it was technically rated R even though an R rating really only meant that under 17-year-olds should watch it in the company of an adult and her being there would totally meet those conditions.

"Peter, the door!" May indicated the foam of the dishwater dripping off her hands. "Do you mind?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure." He hadn't even heard anyone knock. He walked over and opened the door. His insides froze so fast his jaw didn't even have a chance to fall open as he was looking straight at Tony Stark.

Maybe shutting the door right in his face wasn't the most charming way to go about it, but it was really all he could do to keep himself from having a panic attack right there in the doorway. His mind had just stopped working and was trapped somewhere between fight and flight. He heard Stark clear his throat on the other side of the door and there was another knock.

_Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.No.No.No.No.No._

He glanced back towards his room. He had to run. Fast. Just get out of the apartment, then... then he would... He would just live in the shadows. Nobody would ever get to him. Just him and the law and...

"Peter?" He heard May call his name from the kitchen. His pulse quickened even more, his heart raced at a dangerous inhuman speed. He couldn't leave May. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of her finding his room empty with him just gone. She only had him and he only had her. Losing him would break her. There really was only one choice he could live with in this situation. She was going to find out. A shaky breath left his throat. This was bound to happen someday, he knew that. He just wasn't prepared for that day to be today. He wished he had prepared better for this. Another knock, this one clearly less patient than the one before.

"Peter!"

He willed his voice to sound at least somewhat normal but it came out high pitched and shaky. "Yeah, on it."

He reached for the doorknob and opened the door wide. Stark had crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed.

"Don't they teach you kids basic manners these days?"

Peter was still holding onto the doorknob, clung to it for some form of support.

Stark's eyes widened, his eyebrows shot up, as he looked at Peter expectantly for another moment. Then he let his arms drop and mimicked Peter's usual fast-rolling vernacular.

"Good evening, Mr. Stark. How nice of you to drop by! So sorry, I had to leave in a flash the other day. Totally forgot to say bye or at least leave a thank-you note. Oopsie."

Stark narrowed his eyes on him again and all Peter could do was avoid his glare and stare at the carpet in the hallway behind Stark.

"Hey, kid!"

Peter's eyes shot back up to him at Stark's sharp tone of voice.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he whispered almost inaudibly. "Please. Please, don't-"

"This is where you politely ask me to come inside." Stark's eyes still rested on him.

Peter could barely hear him over the loud thump of his own heart, that muffled everything around him. "Please, Sir. You don't understand-"

Stark rolled his eyes. "Fine." He wedged himself through the open door and by reflex Peter reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Don't! Please..."

Stark leaned closer to him, his voice low but powerful. "Running out on me was a mistake, kid. I told you, there would be consequences if you try to screw me over." In a much louder cheerful tone, he continued. "Now, why don't you introduce me to your lovely Aunt!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm a little sorry that this ends on another cliffhanger, but in my defense, this is the longest chapter so far. I debated cutting it shorter or splitting it up, but I think those scenes do all belong together in the end.
> 
> Again, thank you so much so the lovely comments. I love them all :)
> 
> I'll try to not let you wait too long for the next chapter.


	14. The Easy Way or the Hard Way

Strolling into a room like he owned the place was something Tony had mastered a long time ago. That part and charming Peter's unusually attractive aunt was really the easy part of this whole trip to the Parker's. He could turn up the charm like no other. He introduced himself to May Parker, graciously ignoring the shocked expression she just hadn't been able to wipe off of her face ever since he had walked into the kitchen.

"I'm sure Peter has told you all about the internships that Stark industry is offering to students all over the country."

Dishwater was still dripping off her hands but at least that gave him an excuse to get around the shaking hands part of introductions that he so despised. Open mouthed she turned to Peter, shaking her head.

"No... no... I'm not sure..."

Tony turned to the boy, hands resting in his pockets. "What's that, Peter? Keeping things from your Aunt." He tilted his head in a mocking fashion, but the kid was quiet, mostly staring at his aunt.

"The September Foundation. A new project I've been working on with my CEO for the last few months. We're looking for the brightest and most extraordinary students this young generation has to offer." He turned to Peter, flashing his most charming smile at him. "I'm not sure if Peter learned about the program when Ms. Potts held her presentation at Midtown High a couple of weeks ago or if our national outreach program got to him first, but my team was very impressed with his application."

He could see the kid swallow hard, digesting the effortless lie Tony had just given to his aunt. If she had been looking at the boy she might have gotten suspicious. The kid really did have a face of glass. How he managed to fool his aunt all this time was a mystery to Tony. But May Parker was hanging on Tony's every word. After all, Tony knew how to captivate the attention of a room. Any room really.

"That's... wow..." She turned to her Nephew, at last, staring at him with wide eyes. "Peter, that is amazing."

The boy had the good sense to blush and stare at his feet. As soon as May turned around to look for a towel to dry off her hands the boy looked up at Tony, his face a giant question mark. Tony just arched his eyebrows and kept talking.

"We're in the final rounds of the application process for this year and I'm sure you understand that we are very selective with the candidates we do pick."

"Of course. Yes."

He turned to May, gesturing at the boy. "Can I have 5 minutes with him? Do you mind?"

"No, of course. Go ahead."

The kid's bedroom door had just shut behind him when the kid turned to face him.

"Mr. Stark, I'm sorry, I-"

"Oh, shut up. No, you're not."

The kid flinched away from him, dropping his glance to the floor once again.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You go from having a panic attack and being too fragile to walk on your own to climbing down 25 stories on the outside wall of a building?"

The kid was wringing his hands in front of himself, staring down at them.

"Seriously, do you have any amount of self-preservation left in there?" He starting pacing back and forth in front of the kid. "Did you actually think that I wouldn't find you? In all of Queens? That I wouldn't find your school or your name in the student registry?"

The kid was still staring down at his hands.

"Look at me, kid!" Tony stopped pacing and waited for the boy to collect himself enough to look up to him. "Do you think I made you sit through 14 stitches without anesthesia just so you can bash your head open on the pavement in front of my tower?"

Tony could see the boy lowering his eyes again. Catching himself at it, he looked back up at Tony and whispered a soft "No."

He shook his head in frustration, his eyes fixed on the cut on the boy's cheek. It did look significantly better than it had two days ago. Maybe the kid's healing factor was more elevated than Tony had expected after all. "How are your stitches doing?"

Now the Spiderling did look away, actually taking a further step back. Tony's eyebrows shot up, dread rising inside him again for the first time since he'd finally found the boy's home address.

"Talk to me, Pete. What happened?"

The boy shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing. It's fine."

"Don't bullshit me, kid. What's wrong with it?"

"I... I don't know. I haven't... I haven't really..." The boy bit his lip, shaking his head again.

"Show me."

The kid's eyes widened and he wanted to protest, but Tony fixed him with a stare that actually made the boy step back even further. Slowly his hands wandered down to the hem of his sweatshirt and lifted one side of it up. Tony's face fell, stepping closer. He realized it was still the same bandage that he had applied 2 days ago.

"Jeezes, kid..." His eyes wandered over the blood that had seeped through the dressing and had now crusted over the most part of the bandage. He was at a loss for words. There were multiple layers of dressing and bandages that were now all sticking together and clotted to the wound. Tony took a deep breath and reached for the boy's hand that was still holding the hem of his shirt and pulled it down, the sweater falling back over the blood clotted bandage. He quietly turned around, walking himself back to the other end of the room, one hand rubbing his temples.

_Alright. Now is not the time to be freaking out._

"I... I couldn't, yesterday. And today... I... I got all the stuff, but then May came home early and-"

Tony held up his hand, signaling the boy to stop talking.

"I'm sorry, I just..." The boy let out a shaky breath. "What's... what's gonna happen now?"

Tony bit his lip and turned back around to face the kid. He tried to get his temper under control as well as the voice in the back of his head telling him that he needed to check that wound for infections asap.

"This is what is going to happen: You will pack a few of your things and then we'll drive upstate to the Comp-"

"Sir, please-"

"Na-ahah! This is where you zip it and listen!"

The kid gave a small nod, struggling to keep his head high and not to look away from Tony's stare.

"We will be driving upstate to the Compound for the weekend. We'll... we'll take care of that." He pointed at the kid's abdomen. "And then we'll figure out what to do with you."

Tony could see that the boy's nerves had picked up again. He was wringing his hands and had his eyes cast back to the ground.

"What if... what if I were to... to refuse."

Tony could see the boy shaking, grabbing hold of the desk behind him to keep himself steady. The sleeves of the kid's sweatshirt were long enough to hide his web shooters. Tony hadn't really had all that much time to take a closer look at those - one of the things that was definitely on the agenda for the weekend - but even with the oblivion his hot aunt seemed to have going when it came to the Spiderling, he doubted that the kid would be careless enough to wear them for dinner with her. So he tilted his head, lifting his own arm and tucked at his sleeve to expose his watch.

"We can always go a few rounds if you'd want me to catch you. I doubt it'd be too difficult with your current health situation, but let's save us both the trouble."

The kid swallowed hard, eyes as round as saucers. Fine, Tony hadn't _actually_ managed to integrate his whole suit in one of the watches yet and even if he had, he sure as hell wouldn't have walked into a building block full of civilians armed to the teeth. But the kid didn't know that. He _could_ call the suit and the tower wasn't too far off. If the kid decided he wanted to be all bold right now, it'd definitely be a pain in the ass to catch him. 

"Listen, kid, I'm not looking for this to turn into some kind of big confrontation. I do need you to come to the Compound with me though. We have things to discuss and we have things to figure out. I'd rather do this the easy way."

Tony could see the boy's emotions getting the better of him. His hands shot up to his face, trying to shield it from Tony. He did feel for the kid, but there was no way around this. They had to do some major damage control.

"Can I..." The boy cleared his throat. "Can I ask a question?"

Tony sighed, checking his watch. "Yes, but you better hurry. I asked your aunt for 5 minutes and those are almost up."

The boy looked up at him, eyes glistering with the wetness of wiping away his tears. "I don't... I don't understand why you told Aunt May about the foundation... and the internship. Why.... why didn't you tell her, that I'm... that I'm..." The boy shook his head slightly and closed his eyes to struggle through the words. "...that I'm Spider-Man?"

Tony shrugged and crossed his arms in front of himself. "Mostly because I think that's your job."

"And if I come with you, you wouldn't tell my Aunt about... you know... about me... about what happened?"

"For now."

He saw the kid's hand shoot up and run nervously over his face. "So, if I did something to piss you off..."

Tony suppressed a chuckle. "I mean if you pissing me off would be the yardstick I'd use here, I should be out there right now, spilling some beans."

The boy looked up at him, still frowning. "Why aren't you? I don't... I don't understand."

Tony sighed and shrugged again. "Well, I would hate to go back on my word."

"But you said, you don't make deals with... with teenagers, I thought..."

"Listen, kid. In all honesty, I think that your aunt has a right to hear all of this coming from you. You want to be all grown up and chase bad guys then you also have to be mature enough not to lie to the people who love you! She deserves better from you."

He watched the boy's face turn red as he retreated even further away from Tony, now heavily leaning onto his desk. Of course, all that was a blatant lie. He wouldn't hesitate to go back on his word to the kid if he had to, not just because that promise was made under false pretenses. Sure, he'd prefer to keep his word even under the circumstances it was given, but what he actually really needed was the boy to trust him. Plus, the kid himself should definitely be the one to come clean to his aunt not just for her sake but mostly for his own. Secrets like that were a burden to carry and there wasn't much for Tony to gain here by exposing the boy. Even if the Spiderling were to come clean, he doubted that his aunt - however hot - had the capabilities to keep the NYPD off the boy's back. But it would certainly take a huge amount of responsibility away from Tony, which wouldn't be the worst thing.

"I'm generally not wild about the idea of handing you over to the authorities, mostly because I've had to deal with a few of them over the last years and I don't want you falling into one of the weird one's hands being dangled over my head at some point in the future. I'm not all that eager to be carrying the responsibility for some super-human teenager around with me all day, every day either. But I think you do want to use your powers for something good and if that's the case, I'd be willing to help you out."

"Help me out how?"

Tony shrugged. "One of those things we'd have to figure out."

He watched the kid nod slowly, seeing the wheels starting to turn in his head.

"Mr. Stark, you really don't need to-"

"Oh, I think I do."

"I know, I've made some... I made some mistakes. I shouldn't have come to Manhattan. I should have stayed in my neighborhood and..."

"Okay, stop."

"...I could just go back and look after things here..."

"Nope."

"...and you would never _never_ hear from me again."

"Kid, stop! No. That is not an option!"

Peter took a step towards him. "Please, Sir-"

Tony uncrossed his arms, signaling him to stop talking. "Peter, there is no version of this where I let a 15-year-old kid go crime fighting without anyone keeping out an eye for you! You refuse to tell your aunt about what you've been up to and I agreed to keep your secret. For now, that's where we're at. I'll give you a shot to do this right. Tell her and we'll take it from there, but this is not something you can do _alone_."

"Why not?" The Spiderling ran his hands through his hair in frustration, stepping away from Tony back to his desk. "You do it!"

Tony's eyebrows shot up and the kid's eyes widened, visibly surprised by his own outburst. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Is that what you think?" Tony shook his head in confusion. "That I don't have help? That I'm managing all the Avengers crap on my own?" He shook his head again, with a laugh. "Kid, I don't. I've always had help. I would have been dead three times over if I'd been on my own out there."

"Oh." The boy's eyes were fixed on him, blinking, not really seeing him. "I didn't..." He frowned. "So, if I come with you, you'd... you'd help me fight crime?"

"If you come with me now without making a fuss, then I'd go ahead and figure out if I can trust you. I'd figure out if you can handle all of this. The whole superhero business is not just about enhanced abilities and strength, there's a lot of bullshit you'd have to deal with and if I figure out that you can't handle all of this, I'm not just gonna stand by."

"So, if I were to screw up-"

"No, this is not about you screwing up, kid. However, if you try to screw me over, if you think you can get some shit past me and I won't know..."

"...then you'll tell my aunt."

Tony blinked, narrowing his eyes. "No. Then I'll pick you up and deliver you to the NYPD's headquarter myself."

He waited for the Spiderling to nod again in resignation.

"Okay." The boy swallowed hard, biting his lip. "What if I tell May... if I tell May right now? If... if she knew, then someone would look out for me, right? And you wouldn't have to... to deal with all this."

Tony crossed his arms again. "I guess. Sure, that would be an option. I mean, there would still be a couple of things to hash out. But yeah, okay. If that's what you want to do. Fine."

The Spiderling nodded slowly, staring at his feet. "Then... okay... I guess... I guess I'll tell May." He looked up at Tony, face pale, hand's nervously tugging his sweater further down. "I mean, I was gonna tell her anyway... at some point... just... just the timing was never... well and she is just so worried and we've already-"

"No need for excuses, kid. Let's just get on with it."

Tony turned and reached for the door.

"Wait. Wait..." Peter held out his hands stopping him.

"Another question?"

"No. I just. I need a minute."

Tony did let go of the door handle. He put his hands in his pockets and studied the boy for another moment.

"I just.." The boy blew out a breath. "Okay."

Peter walked past him, reaching for the handle, preparing to open the door. Tony could see him struggle with the situation. He laid his hand on top of the boy's, pressing down the handle and pushing the door wide open.

"After you, kid."

Peter nodded slowly and started walking towards the living room like he was on his way to the gallows. The boy's aunt was waiting, pacing back and forth and headed straight for Peter when she saw him reappear from his room. She quietly whispered something to him, but the kid just shook his head and pointed to the couch, indicating for her to sit. She looked up with a frown, gaze shifting to Tony, whose face was sporting his most impassive Stark mask. Keeping to the back of the room, he was leaning against the wall, because he wasn't part of this. This conversation was between the kid and his aunt. He was only there to supervise that the kid would stick to his end of the deal and actually tell her. If anything, Tony was the incredibly responsible adult here. The one, who actually caught the kid doing things kids weren't supposed to do. Like getting stabbed. She should have realized that the boy had been sneaking out _months_ ago. Hell, how she didn't realize that the kid was a walking medical emergency was...

Tony shook his head slightly in an attempt to stop his thoughts from going off the deep end and refocused on the scene in front of him. Peter was still standing up, facing his Aunt and shifting from one foot to the other.

"May, there's something I..." He cleared his throat, looking down at his feet. "I've been meaning to... to tell you, but... listen..." He cleared his throat again. His hand shifted from holding onto the hem of his sweatshirt, went to scratch the back of his neck and returned to his front wringing his other hand. "It's... erm... The thing is..."

"Peter, you're freaking me out here." She turned around again, looking at Tony, then back to her nephew. "What the hell's going on?"

"The things is... I... I should have told you about this earlier, but..." He swallowed hard. "but I just thought that... that I had more time and..." He looked up at her and Tony could see his face fall. He didn't blink, just stared at her before straightening his back. "The... the final round for the... internship is a... is a lab test and it's this weekend and I didn't realize, but now you took time off work and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I... I have to go with Mr. Stark because it starts now. The... the test starts tonight. And I'm so sorry. But I... I have to go with Mr. Stark."

The kid looked up, meeting his eyes, but Tony just stood there, frozen. His chin might have dropped but he wouldn't know because he couldn't actually feel his face. _Damn it._ The boy had already made the right choice in agreeing to tell his aunt. Tony had thought he had gotten away with this, doing the right thing without actually having to go back on his word. Sure, he would have done that if necessary, but he preferred keeping his word, even if he hadn't really been aware of all the variables at the time. The kid's gaze shifted down to his aunt again and Tony dimly realized that she was speaking.

"Oh, that's... wow, that really is short notice. I don't understand why you never... you never said anything and I..." She turned around, facing Tony who had gathered the little self-control he had left to put his Stark-PR-mask into place. "Where exactly is this going to be. I mean, a little bit of time to think about this would have been really great."

Tony was about to say something when the kid spoke up again and both Tony and this aunt looked back over to him.

"It's really my fault, May. I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't want to make a big deal out of this and you know it's supposed to be short notice and all to make it fair for everyone and I just... I just didn't realize it was this short notice and-"

"So, where exactly are you going?"

"The... erm... There's a research facility upstate and that's where the... the test is. I'll be back on Sunday." The Spiderling looked up at him with a lot more determination than Tony had thought him capable of. "Right, Mr. Stark? I'll be back home on Sunday."

Tony flashed a smile at the kid's aunt, who was still looking over her shoulder at him. "Yes. I'll have him back home on Sunday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys again for the lovely comments you left! 
> 
> I'll be away all weekend, so I probably won't get to publish the next chapter until next week. I do hope you enjoyed the read.


	15. The Fine Line Between Fortitude and Fear

Peter's eyes were fixed on the tinted windows of Stark's Bentley. Lights and buildings were flying by outside but he couldn't concentrate on that. He was too busy trying to keep his emotions in check, his breathing leveled and is mind from going into overdrive. He'd been a complete mess for the past few days. Never should he have ever set foot into Manhattan in the first place. He should have cherished his simple neighborhood problems, should have been happy that he had helped crime simmer down. But he just couldn't resist. He had to tempt fate and now he was reaping the consequences. Stark was sitting next to him, typing away on his tablet. Peter had lost all sense of time. Had they been driving for 15 minutes? or 20? 30? He kept wringing his hands, forcing himself to keep them low on his lap and trying to smother the urge to rub his wrists. The first thing Stark had made him do when they had gotten into the car was to hand over his web shooters.

After his pathetic performance where instead of telling her about his secret identity he had told May he would have to leave for an internship lab test with Stark, he had run off to pack. Putting on the web shooters was the first thing he did when he was back in his room. Stuffing the medical supplies and the clothes Stark had given him at the Tower into his backpack was a close second. He was fast enough to get those things out of the way before May came to see him in his room.

***

"Peter, what the hell is going on?" She stood close behind him, her voice low.

He grabbed a couple of shirts and socks from his wardrobe, hiding his face from her. "I'm sorry, May. I don't know why I didn't tell you, I guess I just didn't want to jinx it, I-"

"Peter, look at me." She grabbed him by the shoulder and made him turn around to face her. "What are you not telling me? Why have I never heard of this internship program."

He met her eyes, trying to keep the guilt off his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. I was just... I never thought I'd even get this far. I'm only a Sophomore..." With two steps he was at his desk, opening the top drawer and pulling out the leaflet for the internship. They had been lying around all over the labs ever since Pepper Potts had visited Midtown High. He'd never even considered to apply, not after what had happened to him at Oscorp, but MJ had caught him staring at the flyers and teased him endlessly, so he had taken one, simply out of spite. He handed it to May and continued packing.

"I don't... I don't understand... Why did he want to talk to you alone? What is going on?"

"The internship is a big deal, May. I... I..." _Think, Peter, think!_ "I mentioned the two weeks I was at Oscorp in my application and... and there might be an issue with the NDA I signed there."

She placed her hand on his shoulder, turning him towards her again. "Are you in trouble? Tell me quick!"

"No, I don't think so. He... he said... he said, he would look into it and that we'd figure something out."

Fine, it was a terrible excuse. May let go of him and he could see her frown as she unfolded the flyer, reading through the information. Peter turned back to his wardrobe to finish up packing. The benefit of him being a model teenager, who was never getting into trouble and who was never in the habit of lying to her - up until the incident - had created sufficient padding for him from her suspicions. May had never had a reason to doubt that he was telling the truth before. The two of them had always been close, even more so after Ben had died. She trusted him and he was outright exploiting that fact. He did feel bad. He hated breaking her trust like that, but at the end of the day, he was doing it to protect her. To shield her from all the worry and the stress and... it just had to be this way. He couldn't tell her. He just couldn't.

"This says there's a form that has to be filled out by a parent or guardian."

"Right." He cleared his throat to give himself a second to think. "That... that's the other thing. I... They were missing some of the paperwork and I guess they need to make sure that everything's... everything's okay with you and because I didn't tell you and they... he wanted to know why I didn't tell you and it's just stupid, I just didn't want to make such a big deal out of it and I thought I'd have enough time to tell you if things got serious, but... but it just happened so quickly and-"

She reached out for him, cupping his face with on hand, eyes shortly lingering on the cut as she was stroking his cheek.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes." He nodded, reaching for her hand and squeezing it, trying his best to smile reassuringly. "It's a once in a lifetime kind of opportunity."

He turned away from her, grabbing his backpack and headed for the living room before she could reach out to hug him. There was no way that his abdomen would be able to take May holding him close.

***

Peter flinched in surprise when Stark shoved the tablet into his hands.

"Does that read like a standard student permission slip?"

Peter looked down at the tablet and frowned. "Did you just write this?"

"I copy and pasted some stuff off the internet." He gaped at Stark, who just shrugged. "Your aunt asked for the permission slip she would need to sign. Can hardly send her the one we have on file."

"Oh, I... I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"The official internship program doesn't really include any _'overnight retreats'_ for _'admission tests'_ ," Stark interrupted, air-quoting the additions he had made to the document "and since you decided to keep lying to your aunt, this is where we're at."

Peter looked down, his face pink but otherwise ignoring the dig at May, and read through the document. He shrugged, handing it back. "Yeah, that looks alright to me, but I'm no legal expert."

"Believe me, the last thing I want to do is run your case past my legal experts." Stark looked away from him, his focus back on the device, so Peter leaned back in his seat again, staring back at the window. "Alright, that's that." He put the tablet away, turning back to Peter. "Are you gonna tell me what happened back there or is it one of those things that I get to worm out of you?"

Peter inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at Stark. He thought it had been pretty obvious what had happened 'back there'. "I just couldn't do it."

"Well, thank you, Captain Obvious. Worming it out of you it is then..."

Peter did sigh at that, rubbing a couple of fingers over his forehead. "You saw what happened! She was freaking out before I had even started to tell her anything."

"Oh, please. You put any teenager in front of their parent sporting the guilty look that you had going on and they would freak out. Hell, if you'd look at me that way, I'd freak out too."

"She's not my parent." He could feel his face growing hot, not quite sure if it was annoyance or shame. He kept his face turned away from the man next to him, staring out into the night.

Stark stayed quiet for a moment. "She's looking after you, responsible for you. She obviously worries about you. That's basically the same thing."

"It's not." He spat the words back. "You only get one set of parents and mine are dead, so no. She's not my parent." He swallowed hard, surprised by his outburst. Spoken out loud his words seemed a lot harsher than they had sounded in his head. Stark stayed quiet and Peter could feel his eyes resting on him. His face was growing hotter and a new wave of guilt swept over him, forcing his glance back down to his hands, resting in his lap.

"I didn't mean it like that. May is... May is all the family I have and I love her, but she's not my _parent_. She's my legal guardian. There's a reason why they have a special word for that." He kept staring down into his lap, his voice fast and low, shaking with anger. Peter was annoyed with himself. Annoyed with Stark for bringing it up. He could feel a hot ball of rage in his stomach and while he wasn't sure why he was reacting so strongly, this was just nobody else's business. Nobody except for him and May got to define what they were to each other and he shouldn't have to defend himself to Stark on this of all the things he'd messed up with. This was none of _his_ business. "You don't just replace someone's parents. It's just not the same thing, no matter how close you get, it's different. It's not the same thing, okay?! You don't understand what it means to-"

Peter stopped himself, slamming his mouth shut. Stark was still quietly sitting next to him while Peter now had the sudden wish for the Earth to open up and swallow him already. He risked a short glance over to the man, before turning back to the window feeling his face burn up even more strongly than before, but Stark was only frowning at him. Peter couldn't detect any anger in his features at all and for some reason that made him feel even worse.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to... to imply, that-"

"That's enough." Stark's voice was surprisingly cheerful. "You're annoyed and angry. I get it. It'd be annoyed and angry too if I'd just chickened out of telling the one person I consider to be family about the reckless kamikaze operation I've been running for the past six months."

Peter shot a quick look over to him and Stark was still only wearing a slight frown on his face. "She'd never allow it." He blurted out quietly, starring back down to his hands. "She'd be too scared for me. She wouldn't understand."

"No, I suppose she wouldn't."

He turned to Stark, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "I don't want to be lying to her. I never asked for any of this."

Stark met his eyes, holding his stare. "Are you trying to convince _me_ with that or yourself?"

Peter leaned back again, sighing in frustration.

"It's fine, kid. I already know that you're out of your depth here, otherwise, you wouldn't have ended up with a stab wound on _my balcony_. That was a bitch to clean up by the way."

Peter's eyes shot over to Stark. He hadn't even considered the fact that Stark would have to clean up after him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

Stark signaled him to stop. "Alright, let me get this straight. You didn't tell her the truth after all, because you were scared that she wouldn't let you continue with all of this." Stark gestured lightly in Peter's general direction. "So... to _avoid_ having to lie to her about continuing your Spiderling-ing _in case_ your aunt tells you to stop if you were to tell her about it, you just decided to continue to lie to her about it in the first place, so she _can't_ ask you to stop... because if she can't ask you to stop, you then wouldn't have to _lie_ to her about you still Spiderling-ing anyways."

Peter frowned and opened his mouth to respond, only to shut it again.

"Yeah, alright. I see why you'd be annoyed with yourself." Stark's gaze shifted to the window. "We're here. Just follow me. We'll go to my workshop to look at your stitches."

Peter stared ahead, eyes fixed on the separation screen that was isolating them from the driver. He was mulling over Stark's words. He _had_ lied to May. At some point his whole thing about not telling her the whole truth had changed to him outright bold-faced lying to her about the internship and Stark, only so he wouldn't have to lie to her if she were to forbid him to keep up the crime fighting. He was such an idiot. This wasn't just a white lie anymore. He wasn't just bending the truth, omitting some of the facts. Somewhere along the way, he had gotten so comfortable with lying to her, that he had ended up in this mess. Peter did have a choice who to trust and he had picked Stark over May. He swallowed hard, a shiver running down his spine. She would never forgive him for this. He just... he just ruined every chance of telling her down the line. If she found out... After everything, she had done for him.

"Hey, kid! You coming?" Peter turned to see that Stark had already gotten out, sticking his head back in the car through the open door. Stark frowned. "You look a little pale, are you still in pain?"

Peter turned away from him to open the door on his right side. "I'm fine."

He got out of the car. They were parked in front of a huge complex. There were no other buildings around them but the light coming from what Peter assumed must be the Avengers Compound illuminated a large area around them. _The Avengers Compound._ He swallowed hard. There was no point in worrying about his lies to May. For all he knew, he could piss off Stark or one of the Superheros in that building and would find himself in some kind of special confinement indefinitely. He glanced over at Stark who was strolling towards the entrance.

"Get your bag, let's go!"

The driver had opened the trunk, holding out Peter's backpack. Reluctantly he took it, slowly placing it on his right shoulder before following Stark into the building. There was no way around it. He had picked this path and he would have to deal with whatever Stark would throw at him. If push came to shove he might have to fight his way out of there to freedom. After all, he had escaped them before.

He was slow to follow, but he made a point of trying to remember as much as he could about the doors in the lobby and how many corridors forked off in different directions. That whole complex was a freaking maze.

"Are you trying to figure out an escape route?"

Peter flinched, feeling heat rise on his cheeks and hoping his face wasn't flushing as severely as it felt like it was. "No. No. Just... looking around." But Stark only shot him a disbelieving look in response, so he cleared his throat. "It seems a little empty."

"Well, it's Friday night. We do try to let our staff have some form of a normal social life." He turned, frowning at Peter. "I'd have thought you'd appreciate having less of an audience."

"I do! I do..." Peter tightened the grip of on his backpack, hastening his step to get closer to Stark and lowered his voice. "Are the... the others... are they waiting for us?"

Stark came to a sudden halt. Peter had been walking at an angle closely behind Stark but managed to stop himself from running into him. Squinting at him over his shoulder, Stark looked him up and down.

"What are you talking about?"

Peter only blinked, thinking back on what he had just said, wondering how he could have been misunderstood. "The others... the other Avengers?"

Stark turned all the way to face him, simultaneously taking a step back, studying Peter from a greater distance. "Wait, you think I brought you here for a team debrief?"

Now it was Peter's turn to frown. "Well, yeah. I mean, you brought me to the _Avengers_ Compound. Why else would you bring me here?"

Stark crossed his arms, a sly smirk appearing on his lips. "You thought I'd brought you in to be questioned by the Avengers and you came without being dragged here kicking and screaming?" Stark gave a short laugh and a shake of the head. "Quite the cojones on you, kid." Peter blushed at that, sheepishly scratching his head. "Come on, the workshop is this way." Doors to their left opened just when they arrived at the entrance. "They're out of the country, kid. And I have a hoard of construction workers redoing my floors at the Tower." He laughed again. "No wonder that you were dragging your feet." He shook his head, looking over to Peter. "When I said, we had to figure things out, I meant you and me. I told you, I'd keep your secret."

"For now..." Peter added before he could stop himself. He shot a nervous glance over to Stark,

"For now."

*

Tony had made the kid lay down on a gurney he'd organized from the med bay. The boy had worked off his sweater and shirt and only had a sheet wrapped around the upper part of his body to keep him warm and a large towel keeping his pants from being soaked. The bandage still covered the kid's abdomen, though Tony had cut them in the back so he could pull off layer by layer. He had started to soak it with wet towels to loosen the clotted dressings. The kid had been quiet and somber during the whole process and Tony wasn't really inclined to chat right then either. He was anxious to see what he was going to find under that bandage, prepared to go as slow as was necessary not to rip anything around the wound.

The boy wasn't running a fever and while his careful and stiff movements still spoke volumes, Tony was hoping that those were simply a symptom of him not being healed yet instead of on indication that the wound was festering. An infection would not just make this whole "figuring stuff out" thing a lot more complicated to keep under wraps, it would also double the shame he felt about taking his eyes of the wounded Spiderling in the Tower when he had already shown that he was a flight risk. He had walked over to his workstation, checking his phone for messages. FRIDAY knew to inform him of the important ones, right now that would be any word coming in from Pepper or Rogers. He was still trying to clear messages from the last couple of days though, some of them including appendixes and follow-ups to the meeting from the day before. That meeting was one of the more pressing points he had to discuss with the kid.

He figured that he might get two painful points off the agenda at once. So when he walked back over to the kid and started pulling off the wet towels he had wrapped around him, Tony decided to bring him up to speed. 

"You may or may not be aware of this but I had the pleasure to spend all day in a meeting with a bunch of officials from the state and the city yesterday ." He dropped the wet towels in a bucket he'd placed next to the gurney to soak them again. "And some national security advisors. They were all very interested and very invested in what exactly had been going on with that terror attack on Wednesday." Tony could see the boy's eyes widen even more. He carefully peeled away the top layer of the bandages. "Does the name Chief Donovan Clarke ring any bells with you?"

"N-no..."

"Well, that's the name of the Chief of the Department for the NYPD and he's quite a fan."

Peter frowned. "Oh, he is?"

Tony lightly tugged on the next bandage but it was still clotted to the underlying layers, so he bent down to retrieve a wet towel out of the bucket and placed it back on the mangled wound dressing.

"Well, not of mine. And not technically of yours either. He is a great fan of the idea of the Avengers rounding you up and handing you over to the authorities though."

A flush was creeping up into the boy's face and he flinched away from Tony, who had to grab him by the upper arm to keep him on the gurney, the wet towels flying off him.

"Wh-What?"

"Get back on the stretcher, kid!" 

The boy blinked, frozen with half of his body hanging in midair, before carefully scooching back over onto the gurney. Tony picked the towels off the floor, throwing them out of the way, scowling at the mess. Maybe he had overestimated the kid's nonchalance when it came to the Avengers, after the boy's admission that he had thought they'd be waiting for him at the Compound. Maybe he hadn't been ballsy and strong after all but simply too paralyzed in the face of certain doom to fight it.

"Are you good to stay put or do I have to prepare myself for more of the skipping bunny routine?"

"I'm sorry." He only mumbled the words and to Tony's surprise, the constant apologies annoyed him a lot more than the kid's rebelling spirits.

"Just... try to keep it together a bit. I already told you, I'm trying to figure this out for you."

"Yes... thank you. I'm sorry, I didn't-"

" _Oh_ my god. Stop apologizing. I've heard the word 'sorry' come out of your mouth so many times in the last few days, it has really lost all meaning at this point."

The kid swallowed what Tony was sure had been another apology just in time and at last, settled back properly onto the stretcher, head leaned back down, eyes carefully avoiding Tony's eye line. Tony picked up another wet towel from the bucket and put it in place over the dressing.

"Anyways... The dude made quite the presentation yesterday on how much you've been interfering in their work over the past few months."

Again, the Spiderling swallowed hard, eyes back on Tony.

"But, I'm only trying to help. I don't understand. Why would they be mad?"

Tony sighed at the naivety of the boy. It became more and more apparent to him how young the kid really was. Even more so, how idealistic he had been thinking of all the crime-fighting he had been doing.

"They don't care that you are actually trying to help people, kid." Reaching for a dry towel he gestured to the boy to raise his back a bit so he could replace the dripping wet sheet he was now lying on. "At least an alarming number of them aren't. A lot of these people don't train and aspire for those kinds of jobs because they have a great desire to be outstanding public servants. They don't give a shit, about what's actually helping and what isn't." He let the dressing soak and walked over to one of his cabinets, grabbing a handful of fresh towels he could soak. "They are in it for the power those positions hold, even in the lower ranks. The power they have over other people, over civilian. And the higher they rise in rank, the more power they get. Unfortunately, it's often the ones that are solely led by their desire for more and more power that end up in those leadership positions. And that's what we have here. An overachiever in the position of department head, not because of his great will to serve the community but because of the great ego boost it gives him to fuck with other people's lives."

He looked up at the kid whose face had adapted an unreadable expression, which in itself was confusing to Tony who so far had had no problem deciphering the boy's glass face.

"And here I thought I was the only one that could make your face radiate that much disapproval..."

Tony barely made out the words for the kid's voice was to low. Suddenly it struck him that the boy was actually trying to suppress a smile and to his own shock, Tony realized that this was the first time he'd actually seen Peter's face portrait something other than worry, fear or pain. He narrowed his eyes in mock accusation, hand dramatically placed on his hip. "I really hope you don't think this is funny..."

The corners of the boy's mouth twitched. "I wouldn't dare to, Sir."

Tony rolled his eyes. "We had to deal with the idiot after the Invasion in 2012. His rank wasn't this high back then and he never sat in any of the meetings we had with the city, but he ranked high enough to be a major pain in the ass when it came to publicly shifting the blame to us. That he managed to rise this high in the department says quite a bit about the politics that are at play here and undercurrents in law enforcement. Down the line, that can actually become dangerous not just for you be for every enhanced individual so we have to be careful in how to deal with it."

The shadow of the kid's smile had disappeared again and he was looking up at Tony, frowning. "So, you're saying law enforcement is... is a threat to everyone who's different? A danger to the Avengers?"

"I'm saying some of them are trying to pit us against each other." He picked the wet towels off the boy's abdomen to continue his work on the wound. "And I'm not having it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was entertaining the idea of waiting a bit till this would reach 10.000 hits before posting and to _then_ thank you all for all the great feedback, but decided, that 9.976 views were pretty amazing already. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting. I totally love it more than I probably should ;)
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter as well. I know, it's dangerously slow burning and was quite heavy in the anxiety department over the last few chapters (I actually did spend all week writing some of the things that are to come down the road to make sure I get the build-up right and would find myself running down an angsty filled rabbit hole :P ), but I have to admit I personally am a sucker for the emotional stuff, though I will promise, that it's not always gonna be all angst and self-doubt ;)
> 
> aaaanyways, thank you guys again. I'll try to update as soon as the next one's done ;)


	16. Late Night Sessions

His legs were moving even though he couldn't remember having started to walk. He didn't even know why he was walking or where he was going. It was dark. Pitch black. He… he should be able to see. What was happening? His senses were supposed to guide him, but he couldn't _see_. Still, he put one foot in front of the other. All this was just so wrong. He should stop walking and try to get his bearings, be more careful. Fear was starting to fill his heart, slowly creeping down his neck and spine, but his feet just kept on going forward, confident in the dark.

His hands moved up to his face but there was no mask. He felt only skin. That meant that there shouldn't be anything in his way, nothing to dull his senses, but still. All he saw was darkness.

His eyes moved up to the ceiling. He couldn't tell how much space there was above his head, which was odd and uncomfortable. Was there even a ceiling above him or was he looking at a dark sky? There were no stars but it might just be a cloudy night. Not recognizing what kind of environment he was in, felt alarming. Maybe he was in a maze of some sort.

His eyes still cast up above he squarely walked into something solid. It didn't hurt though and only slightly startled him. Then he felt someone's hands on his jacket, dragging him forward, slamming him into the ground. His mind went into overdrive, trying to focus on the person in front of him, trying to see and to react, but his body just didn't seem capable of catching up with the rapid course of events. As if he had lost all control of his body. He felt kicks hitting the side of his body, feet shuffling around him. He rolled over in pain. There were more kicks to his back, more and more all over his body. He wanted to fend off the attack, but his arms were too slow and he just couldn't get up. His head was ringing with pain and disorientation. He was dizzy, everything hurt and just as he looked up he could finally see something in the haze of darkness. The edge of a knife glistening as if hit by a single ray of light before it was buried in his abdomen.

Pain. There was so much pain. Like his mind registered every single cell being torn as the knife cut through his flesh. His mouth fell open, he felt his vocal cords vibrate but there was no sound. There should be sound. His throat ached and his ears should be ringing with his screams.

All of a sudden, he sat up. There was light all around him and he squeezed his eyes, blinking against the brightness. He was in bed in a room he didn't recognize. Panicked his hand went down to his abdomen, expecting a thick, red stream of blood but there was only fabric. He reached under his shirt and found more soft fabric. He blinked rapidly, still panting, and cast his eyes down. White bandages covered his stomach. He swallowed hard, cringing as his throat contracted and burned. The hand on his abdomen wandered up to his throat and softly rubbed at the skin as he closed his eyes again to shut out the bright light. He tried to control his breathing, keeping his eyes closed, he tried to focus on calming his nerves.

_You're alright. You're fine. It's alright._

He could feel a throbbing in his throat, the stab wound pulsing with his heartbeat.

_**"Mr. Parker, it seems that you experienced a nightmare."** _

Peter's eyes flew open and he glanced up to the ceiling. _That's right. The Compound. He was at the_ _Avengers_ _Compound._

_**"Mr. Stark wanted me to remind you that hot drinks and sandwiches are readily available for you in the communal kitchen down the corridor to the left of your room. If you require any further assistance, please do ask."** _

He cleared his throat. "Thank- Thank you." He closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths. Hot chocolate might not be the worst idea. He laid back on the bed and rubbed a hand across his face. It had only been a dream. Which was fine. That was to be expected. He went through something traumatic, of course, that would come with nightmares. This wasn't his first traumatic _experience_. He knew the drill.

Still. His hands were wet, his heart was still pounding fast and strong in his chest. It didn't matter how far removed he physically was from where it had all happened, how irrational it had been. He was still scared. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, a tingling that went all the way down his limbs into his fingertips, down his legs and tickling the soles of his feet.

He knew his fear was overinflated by his sleep-deprived mind and his trauma. He wasn't in any imminent danger. His hand wandered down once again, lifted up his shirt and came to rest on top of the stab wound. Earlier that night, Stark had pulled off the blood clotted bandages one by one, exposing the wound lying beneath it. He had been paralyzed by dread and anxiety. He just really, _really_ hadn't wanted to look at it. Sure, he should be able to trust his healing factor, but he had never been wounded that severely before. He didn't know if he was safe from infection and the thought of seeing his skin all torn and shredded. In his fear, he had almost convinced himself that he was going to see red streaks growing from the wound towards his heart, signifiers of sepsis and blood poisoning.

His eyes had been moist with imminent tears. He had closed them, had bit down hard on the inside of his lip. He'd probably taste blood if he'd clench his jaw any tighter. Maybe that would actually be a welcome distraction from the fear of what Stark was uncovering. For a while the man had been talking about the meeting he had attended with the city council, mirroring the chitchat he had rattled off during the initial dressing of the wound. Peter had been quick to engage, desperate to pull his thoughts away from the cut in his abdomen, his rising pulse and the constant shiver in his limbs. But then just couldn't keep talking. He was just scared that his voice wouldn't hold up if he'd speak and he couldn't really focus on Stark's story either. His mind was simply flooded with dread.

Peter could feel how the layers of dressing were pulled back. Less and less fabric was left to cover his wound. Layer after layer got soaked to loosen up and was then pulled off him. It didn't necessarily hurt. It sure didn't feel comfortable either though. It reminded him of the night at the Tower, feeling exposed and vulnerable. When Stark pulled off the last bit of bandage, Peter distinctly felt every inch of his skin being exposed to the cold air of the lab. He opened his eyes reluctantly, his gaze fixed on Stark's face as he inspected his wound. Stark reached for a dry towel, carefully cleaned off the excess moisture and clotted blood. Peter studied his face but the man kept his expression carefully neutral. The same however wasn't true for Stark's pulse. Peter had identified a fast beat that had increased over the course of the procedure. He assumed that just like Peter the man was nervous to find out how much Peter had screwed up this time and how difficult a spot he'd have to maneuver them out of. Peter had focused on the steadily elevating beat, using it to guide his own nerves. But with the last layer of dressing gone, the expected spike in the man's heart rate had failed to register with him. He took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his own pulse. Maybe he really wasn't dying after all. Maybe—

"I'm going to use some antiseptic solution on this now. I'm not sure, how sensitive your skin is going to be, but the majority of the scab has softened and peeled away with the bandages, so it's most likely going to burn just as much as it did before." Stark had reached for the antiseptic solution and a clean piece of gauze, his eyes now on Peter's face. "Same rules apply as last time. This will hurt. You have nothing to win here by trying to pretend like it doesn't."

Peter blinked away the moisture in his eyes and tightened his grip on the edge of the gurney. He gave a short nod in acknowledgment, then dropped his head back down and fixed his eyes on a spot at the ceiling. He gasped as the antiseptic solution burned his flesh and did as he was told, not even trying to suppress the scream that came rushing out of his throat. His arms were shaking from the vise-like grip he had on the edge of the gurney, desperately trying to hold himself in place. He didn't want to jump off the gurney again. He wanted to be stronger than that. Stark's hand was on his lower arm, squeezing it tightly. Peter looked over at him but the man's eyes were still fixed on his wound. He swallowed deeply and closed his eyes for another couple of heartbeats. When he opened them again he followed Stark's gaze down to his own abdomen. The man was dabbing at it with a fresh piece of wound dressing. He let go of Peter's arm and lifted the piece of fabric for Peter to see.

"It's not too bad, kid." His hand hovered over it, indicating small tears in his skin where droplets of blood and lymph were quickly forming again. "As the wound clotted to the dressing and you kept moving, it continuously opened up again, that's where all these smaller chaps are from."

Peter nodded. Yeah, maybe he shouldn't have jumped over that school fence. That had hurt. Best to keep this particular moronic move to himself.

"The redness around it just means that it's agitated, which isn't much of a surprise judging by the way you've treated it so far." Peter's face was hot. He lifted his eyes up at Stark he found the man looking right at him. "You got lucky, kid. You got very lucky that there's no infection, no serious complication. You can't allow yourself to take risks like that in the future."

Peter cast his eyes back down to the wound and nodded.

"You do heal fast. That cut on your face will be gone by the end of the weekend. But this here," Stark pointed at the stab wound, "you'll have to take care of that every day, probably for another week, redress it, or it will tear open again and again."

Peter nodded again and whispered a soft "Okay."

Stark looked up at him. "Do you know how to do that?"

"Just... just take off the bandage and... and put new gauze on it?"

Stark arched his brows and proceeded in talking Peter through what to do step by step.

"If you change it frequently and don't over-exhaust it, the scab won't break open like this. That means the dressing won't stick to the wound and disinfecting it won't hurt as much."

Peter nodded and carefully sat up with Stark's assistance.

The man had offered to call it a day, to show Peter to a room so he could rest and they could continue their talk in the morning. Peter had been more than happy to accept. He had still been exhausted from the night of the attack and barely managed to stay awake long enough to change into his pajama pants and shirt before he had collapsed onto the bed, his sleep restless and then finally broken by the nightmare.

A hot drink did sound like a good idea. Food sounded great as well. He got up careful with his injury, pulled on his shoes and a jacket before he opened the door to the hallway and stuck his head out. He checked either side of the corridor before he turned to his left and walked towards the kitchen. The fact that the Avengers were not around still buzzed in the back of his mind. He had tried to brace himself for the inevitable confrontation after Stark had shown up on his doorstep and had laid out the limited amount of options that were at Peter's disposal. He had dreaded dealing with the fallout and it did give him some sense of calmness that they were not at the Compound. Still, that was only temporary relief. He would have to face them eventually.

Not today though and not tomorrow. And he was grateful for every break he could get.

The first thing he noticed in the kitchen was the display of the microwave. 1:23 am it read in bright red numbers. He'd been asleep for about 3 hours then. Well, _asleep_ was a bit of a stretch. He felt everything but rested. Peter screened the automatic coffee maker for hot chocolate options and once he'd figured out the right key sequence he opened up the fridge. There were a few more food options than just a few sandwiches stockpiled in there. He blinked at the variety of meat and vegetables - some of them he'd not even know the name of - until he spotted an egg-salad sandwich on one of the shelves. He reached for his hot chocolate and looked back and forth from the kitchen to the hallway in the direction of the room he had just left. Was he supposed to eat in the room Stark had assigned him to or right there in the kitchen area? Maybe food wasn't even allowed in the rooms.

After a moment of uncertainty, he cleared his throat and turned his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Excuse me, Miss Friday, am I... am I supposed to eat here or..."

_**"You're welcome to sit and eat at the couch set in front of you, in the dining area,"**_ a section of the room lit up revealing a long table _**"or in your assigned bedroom. Mr. Stark is currently in the lab. You are also welcome to join him there if you would like some company."**_

"Oh, okay. That's... thank you." He shut himself up and took a couple of steps towards the couch right in front of him and carefully lowered himself down, trying to be mindful of his injury. He sat and ate. His thoughts drifted back to his nightmare and he shook his head every time he realized his mind went in that direction. He sat quietly for a bit, then leaned back into the cushions after he had finished the sandwich, clutching the cup of hot chocolate. The warm sweet liquid worked like a band-aid for his soul.

While he was determined to keep his thoughts away from the incident (and from the nightmare), he did ponder the events it had let to. Exposing his identity to Tony Stark and all the consequences that had. He had been shocked when the man had turned up at his door and confused and suspicious when he _didn't_ insist on informing May about everything Peter had been up to. With all the things Peter had screwed up, all the mistakes, all the reckless behavior. Everything considered, Stark had been kind and at times almost comforting. Peter shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Stark _wanted_ Peter to trust him. He knew that. He might have made some stupid ass mistakes but he wasn't an idiot. Stark had told him that people were trying to pit enhanced individuals against each other and Stark was trying his best to avoid trouble and as long as Peter's allegiance brought him more benefits than it had drawbacks, it was safe probably for Peter to trust him.

Having someone as powerful as Stark in his corner was a major asset. Peter didn't have any influence, any protection. His powers could only get him so far. Getting Stark to trust him, highlighting that he would be of use as an ally, would have to be Peter's main focus. To keep himself safe and to keep May save.

"Friday, what's Mr. Stark doing in the lab?"

_**"He is fixing the world one broken connection at a time."** _

"Oh." Peter frowned. The AI was either developing a lot more snark or that had been a direct quote.

Peter got off the sofa, cleaned up after himself and headed down the hallway on the other side of the kitchen. The corridors in front of him kept lighting up. That could really only be Friday guiding the way. He would have certainly gotten lost if he had tried to find the way back to the lab on his own. Then he turned a corner and finally recognized the door in the distance as the entrance to the lab, but there was no light shining through into the corridor. Friday had confirmed that Mr. Stark was still there though. Maybe he should just turn around and go back to the room. He was still exhausted. He could really do with the sleep. But there was no telling of what he would see if he closed his eyes. And besides, Peter had to earn Stark's trust and for that he'd have to show up and for once leave some positive impressions. So he stood in front of the lab, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Should he knock or— Never mind. The door slid open, flooding him and the hallway in bright light. Stark was in the middle of the lab, bend over his workbench. He buried his hands deep in his pockets and walked into the room.

This was awkward. He had no idea what to say. Not a clue. Maybe showing up like this in the middle of the night like a lost little baby was sending the exact opposite message of what he wanted to convey. He'd stopped a few feet away from Stark and uncomfortably shuffled his feet underneath himself. Now what?

"Could you bring that 3/16" wrench over here?"

"The... yeah, sure." Peter took a few long strides towards the workbench and found the wrench right away at the end of the table. He walked up to Stark, tool in hand.

"Just put it down over here." The man patted a spot on the desk to his right, so Peter stepped around him and quickly placed the wrench on the smooth surface. "I'm also going to need additional wire. First cabin from the left, second drawer. The No. 2 copper."

Peter breathed a low "okay" and went to open the drawer. He pulled out the roll of wire and turned it over in his hand. Was he supposed to cut off a piece of it? Probably not. He just put it down next to the spot where he'd left the wrench.

"I was looking at your web-shooters earlier... 1.5 hex. Pull out the large top drawer, second cabinet." Peter opened the drawer and found the largest assortment of screwdrivers he'd ever seen. He froze for a moment, stunned by the sheer amount of resources in front of him. Quickly he reached for the 1.5 hex when Stark continued. "The underlining design isn't too shabby, but you're in desperate need of an upgrade."

Peter huffed and suppressed a smirk. "Is that going to be part of that deal?"

Stark looked over to him. "Maybe."

He bit his lip, not sure how far he would get to take the banter with Stark. "If I don't piss you off?"

The man tilted his head and studied him. ".3 hex." He turned back to the control unit in front of him and cut off a piece of the copper wire. "Not pissing me off is a given."

Peter gnawed on his lip. He opened the drawer once again and grabbed the screwdriver.

"You did make them yourself, I presume."

Peter nodded to himself, eyes fixed on what Stark was doing. "Yeah, I did."

"What about the web stuff. How do you do that?"

"I utilized some of the chem class' resources."

Stark snorted. "You're stealing from your classroom?"

"It's mostly stuff they have us use in class anyway." He felt his cheeks burn. "I do bring some additional stuff, that the school wouldn't really have in stock."

"Well, that will need to change." Stark put down the screwdriver and started to reassemble the unit. "We can't have you stealing from the school."

Peter stayed quiet, eyes still on Stark's hands at work, when the man picked up the unit and handed it to him.

"You wanna do the honors?" He pointed to what looked like an oversized robotic arm and Peter frowned, turning the box over in his hands.

"I'm not sure..."

"It's pretty straight forward, two connectors, 3 internal fixing points, an additional 5 to close the case and secure everything neatly. Should be easy to figure out for the kid who built this." Peter looked up to see Stark now lounging on his chair as he held up one of the web-shooters.

Ah. So, this was less of a "helping out" scenario and more of a test. Peter turned the unit over in his hands. His pulse had picked up for a moment, but Stark was right. When he stepped up to the robot and looked at what he had in front of himself, it really was pretty straight forward. While the unit had a few different ports, probably left there after different attempts to get the best possible arrangement, it was quite obvious which ones were live and had to be linked to the loose connectors. This wasn't so bad. Less than 5 minutes later he'd closed up the exterior hatch and secured the remaining screws. He turned to Stark and held out the screwdriver to him, feeling damn well pleased with himself.

"There you go."

"That was it?" Stark refused to take the screwdriver from his hand and raised his brows at him.

Peter frowned. He turned back to look at the thing. "Yeah, that was it. Like you said, it was pretty straight forward." Stark had pursed his lips at the robot when Peter turned back around. He looked over to him indicating the robot.

"Really, you're gonna leave it at that?" He crossed his arms and just looked at him expectantly.

Peter turned back again, his mind went over everything that Stark had listed: two connectors, 3 internal fixing points, an additional 5 to close the case. He had done all that. What the hell was he missing? His hands started to sweat. This was a test. He probably did everything he was supposed to and Stark was simply testing his confidence... right?

"I... yeah. That... that was everything!"

Stark sighed and got up out of his chair. Peter was frozen to his spot as he walked towards him. He reached out to the side of the case. Confused Peter's eyes followed his hand and his face fell as he saw Stark flip a switch on the far bottom of the case.

"I can't believe you made me get up for that."

The robot started initializing and chirping as Peter groaned and threw his head back in resignation. "Well, that wasn't on the list you gave me!"

"The list was just the essentials. I'm always gonna need you to think one step further than that." Peter scowled, crossing his arms. Stark took one look at him and laughed. "Come on, that was a great lesson! I'm gonna be awesome at this."

Of course, there had been a trick in this. He'd probably have to prepare for there always being a second layer of whatever Stark was asking of him.

"Alright, Dummy, how about some tea!"

Peter's eyes shot up at that. _Did he just—_

Stark saw him gape and only waved him off. "I was talking to him." He pointed at the robot.

"It has a name?"

" _He_ has a name."

Peter had to smirk at the affection in the man's voice. At his gesture, he followed Stark over to the large sofa and sat down. The robot followed them shortly afterward holding two cups of steaming tea. Peter was careful to dislodge it from his claw without burning himself or spilling it over Stark's bot. Stark blew at his own cup and took a small sip. He screwed up his face and then shrugged.

"What do you think?"

Peter blinked at him, before blowing on his own cup, and took his time to taste the brew. Brew was an adequate description. What the— What was that? It'd take a whole lot of imagination to categorize it as 'tea'.

He grimaced and glanced down at the cup. "What the hell is this?"

Stark took another sip. "I'd say nettle and maybe anise." He laughed as Peter shook his head. "The last batch tasted like swept up pine needles. This is a definite improvement." He turned to the bot. "Good job, Dummy! Go recharge." Peter frowned at Stark's smile as the bot chirped and buzzed driving itself to the other end of the lab. Just then he realized that there was another bot lined up next to Dummy's charging station.

"That's You."

Peter turned to him in confusion. "Are those... are those more AIs?"

"Well, not really. They are..." He sighed. "They are some early projects from when I was at MIT."

"Huh." Peter turned back to look over to the robots lined up next to each other. He'd not really figured Stark to be the sentimental type, fixing college projects on a Friday night. They both stayed quiet for a bit, Stark still sipping his 'tea'. So what now? Was he supposed to wait till Stark released him back to his room? Or was he expected to read the room and offer to leave? He looked down at the cup in his hand, not sure if Stark would be offended if he didn't drink it.

"It's normal, you know. When you go through something traumatic. Sleeplessness." Stark's eyes were still fixed on the cup in front of him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Peter blinked at him, his mind utterly thrown for a loop. "I..." His hands clutched the cup a little tighter. "No. No, not really."

"You should try to get some sleep then," Stark suggested with a solemn nod.

Peter was quiet for a moment. He didn't really want that either. "Are you?"

Stark's lips curled into a smirk. "I don't do well with sleep."

"Well, do _you_ want to talk about it?"

He shot a quick glance at the man. Maybe this had been too far. But Stark only laughed. Weirdly, Peter found that he hadn't even been all together kidding. But was that really a thing? Stark had said that he needed help, too. But did _Iron Man really sit down and tell people about this part of being a superhero? The trauma, the nightmares?_

Well, he had just said that it was normal. He must have been referring to the nightmare. Surely, Stark's AI was monitoring him and kept the man informed about what he was doing. He had ordered her to watch him at the Tower when Peter had dashed and he was under no illusion that Stark would be trusting him any more at this stage, not after he had run. So, he'd be aware that Peter had woken up screaming on the top of his lungs. His throat still felt raw and he just barely resisted the impulse to rub it as he was thinking about it again. Stark had also alluded to panic attacks when Peter was falling apart at the Tower, basically claimed he had had them in his penthouse just the same.

"I stopped you. The night it happened." Peter looked up as Stark's words were echoing through the otherwise quiet lab. He had been lost so deeply in his thoughts that he hadn't realized that Stark had fallen silent himself, how he had put down the cup on the table in front of them. "You were about to tell me, how you were attacked and I stopped you." The man turned in his seat to face him. "I shouldn't have done that. I... I regret doing that. I should have let you talk. I'm sorry."

Peter had to look away from him. The intensity of Stark's words hit him unprepared. "That's... that's fine. You don't..." He shook his head, nervously scratching his face. "You don't have to... to worry about that."

"I disagree."

Eyes still cast down, Peter huffed in dry amusement. Unsure what to do he actually took another sip from his cup and yuck, right. Nessel and Annis. He frowned at the cup and a shiver went through him, as the hot liquid ran down his throat actually easing his raw skin.

"You can tell me now."

He put the cup down and leaned back, his arms crossed. "It's fine. I don't really _want_ to talk about it. I'm fine."

For a moment, Stark stayed quiet and Peter almost convinced himself that he would let it go. "You're not fine, kid. You know that. You're not dumb. You know, that you're not fine." His voice was low, almost sympathetic, but Peter was careful to keep his eyes cast down. He didn't want this. He didn't want to remember. "Just tell me."

Peter bit his lip and sniffed a dry laugh. "Is that an order, Sir?"

"It can be. But I'd rather have you come to the realization that it's a necessity to help you get over what happened without me having to excessively force the issue. To understand what happened. To learn from it." Stark's response lacked any undercurrent of duress, but Peter was sure that Stark would make hearing about that night a condition for any future help he'd offer if Peter were to refuse his request.

"Maybe... maybe we could do this... tomorrow. I just... I need some time... I can't..." He looked up and found Stark's eyes fixed on him. He swallowed deeply as the man tilted his head only vaguely to the side and kept his eyes on him expectantly. Peter swallowed again, his throat dry. He pulled his own eyes away from Stark and first looked down to his hands, then reached for the cup again, desperate to occupy himself with something. He was only met with silence, no long argument, no vast emotionally manipulative speech like May would use on him. Only silence and what seemed like the certainty that Peter would eventually talk was radiating from Stark.

It happened to be a most effective method. He felt his own resolve melting away, the awkwardness of the quiet room made him want to talk, just to make things less awkward. He knew exactly what Stark was doing, but he couldn't help it. He'd have to tell him at some point. Anything to make sitting in that lab less excruciating.

"I didn't pay attention. I thought... I had been laying low for a bit, after ditching the Falcon, but I knew there was danger out there. I sensed it, I... I can sense things like that." He shot a short glance over to Stark before he cast his eyes down to the cup again. The man's expression hadn't changed, his eyes still set on Peter unblinkingly.

"I thought... I thought that someone from... from your team was probably still looking for me and it would only be a matter of time till they found me if I didn't move. And I... I just wanted to get home. So, I left. I was thinking about what route to take, trying to make sure that I wouldn't lead anyone back home. I turned a corner too quickly and walked into a group of people. Just... just random criminals, I guess. They attacked me and I didn't react fast enough cause I was preoccupied with... well. I just didn't pay attention."

Once more he took a sip of the robot's brew, another quick look to the side catching a glimpse of Stark's reaction.

"You ran out of whatever powers those shooters," Stark added matter of factly.

Peter frowned in surprise. "How do you know that?"

"When I told Friday to call the EMTs and you tried to run, one of them wasn't working. I looked at them earlier tonight, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with either of them. Maybe I'm wrong but it doesn't seem to me like you'd have been in any condition to fix them already if one of them had been broken."

Peter nodded, eyes cast down at his cup again. "I didn't touch them since that night. Yeah, the web fluid had run out." He bit his lip, shaking his head at his own foolishness. "I'd used some of it up patrolling, then most of it tying up that dude in the street in Manhattan. Some more when I was running from the Falcon." He shrugged, still avoiding Stark's glance. "I wasn't prepared for that day. I'd never used that much fluid in that short amount of time." He swallowed another sip of the hot liquid. "I did have back up fluid on me. I just... I didn't check... I didn't realize, how much I'd used."

He fell silent peering down into the cup. The panic he had felt when he was lying on the ground trying to defend himself and one of the web shooter just didn't want to work threatened to rush over him again. He swallowed another deep gulp of the tea and shook it off with a quick jerk of his head.

"It took me a bit to realize that I'd run out. When I did, I focused on trying to knock them out, to get them off me. I got maybe 2 out of 6 when one of the guys behind me pulled out a knife. I..." He shook his head again. The details of what had happened then were a blur. "I don't really know how maybe... maybe my senses came back to me and that's how I sidestepped him. To avoid the knife the best I could. I don't... I don't really know."

"What do you mean, 'your senses came back to you'?"

Peter cast a short glance over to Stark again, then looked away. "It's... when whatever happened happened... when I was... bitten. It's like my senses were dialed up to 11. I can... I can feel things, I can see things far off, just everything is more intense."

"You can feel when someone pulls out a knife behind your back?"

He looked over at Stark, shaking his head. How would he even explain what he felt? He had no idea how any of that even worked. "No, it's more like... I didn't know it was a knife, but I knew that there was danger behind me and it's... I don't know how to explain it. It's like a weird kind of instinct where my body just knows what to do. How to avoid danger. Or..." Peter shrugged and turned his eyes down again. "Or that's what I thought. I'm not so sure anymore."

"Is that how you turned up at the scene at Lexington Avenue?"

Peter looked up right into Stark's stunned face. "Yeah... yeah, my senses were flaring up, so I knew something was happening. And so I decided... yeah."

"And so you decided to try and help."

Peter nodded, head bowed low.

"And now, you don't trust your instincts anymore? Because you got hurt."

Again, Peter nodded.

"Pete, look at me." Reluctantly he turned he eyes back on Stark, met his gaze full on. "It seems to me those... senses work just fine. From what you just told me, you'd be dead without them." Peter bit his lip, mulling that over. "Heightened senses... let me guess. Your hearing is probably quite remarkable as well," Stark asked.

A red flush crept up into his face. "Mr. Stark, I'm sorry, I-"

The man gestured for him to stop talking. "You were listening to me when I was on the phone."

Peter swallowed hard, but he nodded. "You said... you said: _We can't drag him anywhere tonight._ and I... I just assumed—"

"You assumed I'd wait a day to bring you to the Compound, to hand you over to the team."

Peter nodded affirmatively.

"So, that's why you ran?" Stark shook his head in open confusion. "If you listened, then you'd have known that I didn't tell them that you were at the Tower. I didn't even tell them that _I_ was at the Tower."

Peter sighed, eyes back on his cup. "Not in that conversation, you didn't. But I didn't... there would have been other ways... without me overhearing." He bit his lip. How honest would he need to be with Stark, how open? How much should he be telling the man? "It was part of the reason, yes. But... it was May. I had to get back before she came home from work. I couldn't... I couldn't let her find out like that. She'd have freaked out if I'd been gone and—"

"Alright, stop. I get it. I'm still not happy about what you did." Stark leaned back into the cushions, his arms crossed. "You understand, that we need to trust each other for this to work, right?"

"Yes, Sir. I know. I promise, I—"

"Na-ah-ah! Don't promise me stuff you're not going to be able to keep."

Peter looked up at him, his pulse at an all-time high for this conversation.

"I don't need you to promise me some idealistic level of candor that you're destined to fail at some point anyway." Stark was looking right at him and Peter could tell that he'd better not look away from the man now. "I'll certainly have my secrets and there'll be times when I won't tell you everything you might want to know. And I won't expect anything else from you either. Having secrets is not a crime. It's not even a disqualifier for a good alliance. What I do expect from you are loyalty and honesty. There'll be no exceptions. There will be no room for lies, no room for rigging the system by trying to get things past me you know I'd not allow. Not even just a little bit. Not if I'm supposed to trust you. No bending the truth, no omitting parts of the story. If I ask you for information and there's something you don't want to tell me, you will say so. If you have a good reason to have a secret, I won't press you for details. And I will promise to do the same."

Peter looked down at the cup he was still holding and saw the liquid vibrate in his shaking hands. He quickly set the cup down on the table and clasped his own hands to keep them steady.

"Does that sound fair to you?"

"Yes, Sir." He looked up at Stark, his voice shaking with nerves. "I do promise that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, first of all, thank you all again for the lovely comments. I'm always happy to read your feedback!
> 
> This is the last chapter I'll be posting on this before Endgame is released. (I do have a little post Infinity war thing, that I hope to be updating the last chapter for some time today as well)  
> I have tickets to watch Endgame tomorrow morning (<17 hours to go...) and while I am scared to find out who will die and am at this point still confident that Tony will live, based on some theories I have story-wise as well as real-life movie business-wise, I'm still excited and nervous in equal measures.
> 
> I'm not sure when I'll finish the next chapter and how long - if the worst were to happen - the heartache will take to get over ;)  
> But either way, I do have a lot of work as well as family stuff scheduled over the next couple of weeks anyway, so no matter how Endgame goes, it will very likely be May before I update again. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I will see you all on the side of Endgame. <3


	17. PSA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I usually hate it when people post notes instead of new chapters, but here I am...  
> There's not really Endgame spoilers in this, but if you're hypersensitive, skip it and know that it'll be a bit longer than the two weeks I suggested i'd need before i put out the next chapter ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna say again for good measure that I won't put any explicit Endgame Spoilers in this note, but if you don't want to get any indication of what happened before you see it... well... seriously, what are you doing reading Marvel fanfiction and not in the theatre watching it. It's been two weeks, come on... :P

Hey guys,

I just wanted to leave you a short info post, that it probably will be a while before I update this story again. I have a few things I'm going to have to get out of my system before I'll get back to this. The important thing that I wanted to underline is, that I definitely will finish this story. And not just because a lot of the later chapters are already written. ;)

I have been doing quite a bit of Post-Endgame writing, mostly to digest the movie, because I really wasn't a fan of what they did there. While it won't come as a surprise - and I'm sure many of you feel the same way - that I'm not happy with how they wrapped up Tony, I'm also disappointed at the storyline itself. I don't want this to turn into a debate about what worked and what didn't and if you liked the film, that's great, because I really wanted to like it too. Nonetheless, I'll need some time to digest (and replace their suggested canon with a LOT of fanfiction ;) ) and then I will come back to this story. 

Might be two months, might be three months. I promise, I won't orphan it ;) I will be writing on a couple of other stories in the meantime, a lot of it very Peter and Tony-centric, so if you're bored or want to know how I feel about Endgame in detail, you can find a few one-shots and a couple of Fix-its on my profile.

Have a great weekend, guys!


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